Chuck Vs The Pacific Northwest
by Nervert
Summary: Sarah and Chuck are waylaid en route to a mission in Seattle. They escape and go underground, in the process making discoveries about themselves, their enemies, and those they thought were allies, which will change their lives forever.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: This story takes place sometime after everyone's favorite episode, Chuck vs. The Fake Name, with the time shifted a little so it takes place in July. It's AU from that point on. There's a mix of action, romance, drama, spy craft, and intrigue. Also, one of my favorite things to do is create back-story elements so expect a fair bit of that too. I don't own Chuck, Irwin's, Fred Meyer, Value Village, or any kind of public transportation. Any other establishments are fictional. Let me know what you think and enjoy :)

Also, thank you, thank you, thank you to the fantastic **Frea O'Scanlin** who made this really awesome cover with various elements of the story in it.

* * *

Sarah had been absently staring through the dark porthole window for several minutes when she began to see the fiery little anemones blooming along the coastline. They flashed in clusters, pink, green, purple, and red, brilliant then fading to be replaced by more. In the coach cabin it was waiting room somber, but down below California was celebrating the 4th of July with explosives, barbecue, and watermelon.

Sarah wondered, if she added it all up, how much time she'd spent looking down at her planet from an airplane window. Something about it reminded her of those rare days in her youth when her father would give her a break from "earning" and take her to the aquarium or the zoo. She'd watch the animals swimming, pacing, and foraging in their miniaturized versions of the world, finding it appealing how they were nearly oblivious to her observation. Nowadays, viewing humanity from airplane windows gave her a similar satisfaction, a sense of control, of order.

She turned from the window to look at her traveling companion. Chuck did not give her orderly feelings. Currently he was staring at his laptop screen, which was displaying some bland romantic comedy, but his mind was clearly somewhere else. She could only imagine where, since he'd become a closed book to her the last few months. It hadn't been like that when they had first met. At one time he had been so open, honest, and intuitive. Without knowing it, he had completely slipped past her guard, giving her a sense of warmth, giddy and heart racing, affectionate and familiar, that she'd never had with another man. Then he'd gone and yanked it all out from under her in a single moment to prove to himself, or to god knew who else, that he could be an intelligence officer. Sarah could see the empty chasm of her future yawning in front of her, she need only look at her partner Casey for an example of where that lead, but she was sure she wasn't going to fall for another one of these human traps.

She blinked her eyes and let out a deep sigh, hoping to put the melodrama out of her head. Chuck pulled off his headphones and turned towards her.

"What's up? You okay?"

"Just tired. And I wish we didn't have to disappoint Ellie, going on this last minute trip. I think both of us were looking forward to a little time together this 4th"

Sarah saw the hint of a smile in his eyes. It had been a strange coincidence that she and Chuck's sister, Ellie, were becoming closer friends while Chuck's relationship with his sister was becoming more distant. Chuck's smile never made it to his lips and then faded completely.

"I think I've come to the realization that I'm going to be a constant disappointment to her."

"You know that's not true, Chuck."

"Yeah, I don't know …" His focus faded for a moment then snapped back. "You know, you should really check this movie out. It's an innovative new kind of film called a 'rom-com'." His fingers hooked quotes. "See, two people who should really be together are kept apart by a bunch of contrived high jinks, but you just know they'll get together at the end. It's a never before seen kind of cinema."

Sarah snickered at Chuck's sarcasm in spite of herself. Thinking he'd lightened Sarah's mood, Chuck went back to "watching" the movie. Sarah sighed more quietly this time. She decided the best way to put all of it out of her head was to review their mission again. She'd gone over the details both with Chuck and the head of their team, Daniel Shaw, several times, but Sarah believed preparation protected against the unexpected.

Like all of the "Bartowski" missions, this one would be entirely domestic, their little team playing a role that the CIA was rarely tasked for. The nature of their enemy, the Ring, a shadow government infiltrating the Nation's intelligence services, was such that the FBI was less suitable for the job.

Two weeks prior to the flight, Shaw had briefed them that a mole in the CIA had been discovered, Carole Takai, an analyst in the Seattle field station. Agents working at this station had been involved in the scouting of a number of the scientists involved with the Intersect Project, and for at least the last three months, Carole had been passing information regarding the program's development to a Ring cell. Shaw wanted that cell identified and shut down.

"Would you like something to drink?"

Sarah looked up to see a flight attendant hovering.

"Water for me, and I'm sure he'll have a coffee, black." Sarah couldn't understand how someone could drink so much coffee but she tried not to nag Chuck about it. When the drinks came, she downed most of the water in a few efficient gulps.

_Blech. That's bitter. What kind of crap are they serving? _

She forced her thoughts back to the mission. This one would be low risk … or at least the risk wasn't due to the Ring. They would be monitoring feeds from foot and rolling teams doing surveillance on the mole, supposedly watching for likely cutouts, dead drops, or signals, but in reality Chuck would be using the Intersect, that bizarre bit of science fiction that had made Chuck as asset beyond compare before he'd even attempted the training to become an officer. They were supposed to coordinate with a technician using facial recognition software to identify Fulcrum agents …

_Wait, that's not right … Ring agents, not Fulcrum … why did I think of Fulcrum? Whatever. _

Unfortunately they couldn't do this remotely because of recent protocol for ops against the Ring. As much as possible was to be done without long distance transmission as Beckman suspected Ms. Takai might have compromised their encryption. Sarah didn't think the trip was necessary at all, but Shaw said he had more faith in the Intersect than the facial recognition software or its more limited database. He was adamant that he wanted Chuck there to flash …

Sarah snorted imagining Chuck exposing himself to the other agent.

_Cut it out Walker. Are you or are you not an intelligence professional? Focus. _

As usual, Shaw had wanted Chuck to go alone, which, predictably, Sarah had resisted. She knew Shaw was testing Chuck to see if he was ready for complete independence, something she disagreed with vehemently. Still, even though they were seeing each other, Shaw outranked her. So when Sarah decided to come on the trip with Chuck, rather than disobey a direct order, she simply went on the trip without asking. Besides, she knew someone needed to be there to distract the technician while Chuck did his thing, since they couldn't let the tech know Chuck was the … the …

_the what?_ Sarah's eyelids were feeling extremely heavy. _They couldn't know that Chuck was the … Internet?_

She shook her head to clear it but this only resulted in making the world slide sideways. Her tongue and lips felt too large and her mouth felt dry.

_Shit! The flight attendant … drugged me! _

The thought was like an earthquake, giving her enough adrenaline to shout out for Chuck. Or at least it felt like she should be shouting but all the came out was a weak slur, "Shuuurk". She had to force her head to move and just managed to turn towards Chuck. She would have screamed if she could have. He was already slumped forward, face slack, a long trail of saliva dropping from his bottom lip.

_No! Do something Walker._ But her consciousness began to fade and she could only think, _I've got no backup. I can't protect him _…


	2. Chapter 2

Sarah was warm and comfortable. She was vaguely aware that something was wrong, something she had to tell Chuck, but couldn't think what it was. She was pressed against his chest, his arms wrapped around her. And he was holding her maybe a bit too tightly because she needed to pull away and see his face. She needed to see if everything was okay. Still, it was comfortable here in this warm drowsy embrace. She could smell his cotton shirt, and him through it, and could feel the rubber-stretched-over-rocks of his muscles.

_Has Chuck been working out?_

She reached up to run her hand through his hair, his straight silky hair.

_Straight? Shaw? _

The pleasant memory of Daniel Shaw in a towel came back to her but she shook it off. Something was very wrong, and besides, Daniel Shaw could take care of himself. Chuck needed her.

_Something's happened to Chuck?_

That thought knocked her consciousness to a higher level and she became aware of noise and motion. She realized she wasn't in anyone's arms at all but instead was lying on her back, and there was light somewhere above her. Then she remembered the flight to Seattle.

_Are we still on the plane?_

She opened her eyes and tried to bring them to focus. There was a ceiling above her, all white.

_The airplane cabin? But the motion's wrong … too much bouncing. Are the pilots okay? _

Her body was responding slowly but she managed to look to her right. Chuck was there, laying on his back, eyes closed. She looked down his body and could see that he was strapped to a gurney. Suddenly she remembered seeing him sagging forward drooling on his knee and it all came back: the flight attendant, the water, being drugged.

_Now where are we?_

Panic drove the rest of the fog from her awareness and she took in her surroundings. At her feet were double doors with windows through which she could see the tops of trees going by at good speed. It was light out, maybe mid-day. To her left she could see a wall of plastic drawers and cubbies filed with medical consumables.

_An ambulance. Of course. That would have been the easiest way to get us off the plane and transported … wherever we're going. Just have a few agents pose as EMTs. Not good. _

Sarah felt a small spear of panic. Because they'd assumed it was a relatively risk free trip, Chuck wasn't supposed to check in till the morning after the flight, so they could be anywhere by the time someone realized things had gone wrong. She definitely did not want to go wherever it was they were now headed.

"Check and see if they're up yet."

She heard the man's voice, deep with a Northeastern accent, coming from the cab of the ambulance, then heard the shuffling of someone getting out of a seat. As quickly as her body would respond, she closed her eyes and let all her muscles fall slack.

"How are we doing, sleeping beauty?"

Another man's voice, definitely Canadian, just above her head. She felt his hand brush her neck lightly, trying to rouse her. She focused like a laser on an image of the seashore, erasing all her anxiety and blanking out the feel of the creepy hand on her skin.

_I'm just taking a walk at the edge of the tide on La Jolla Shores. It's dusk, the water's warm, sand crabs tickling my feet, light August breeze off the ocean, no Santa Anas today … _

The hand began to drift down her neck creeping over the retaining strap across her chest towards her right breast.

_Suck it up Walker. You can't break this guy's hand later if you twitch now. _

The voice in her head was Casey's and it did the trick. The effort was enormous but she didn't move a muscle.

"You're molesting that girl back there aren't you?"

"No! Just seeing if she's awake."

"You are, aren't you? God I hate working with fucking amateurs. So are they awake, dead, or what?"

"They're both still out. And I was not feeling her up."

"Yeah, but you almost were."

"Step off, Manny. Besides, you know you want to see what she's got too."

"Son, I've hit as good as that and better. With the money you're gonna make _if_ you don't fuck up you can to. At least you can rent it and she'll act like she wants it. Or she can act like she don't, if you're into that. I don't give a shit either way because _that_ one is meat in the wagon, to be delivered and that's all!"

_Oh, aren't you two a couple of charmers. Well … there goes the seduction angle. I'm going to have to get out of these restraints myself._

She heard the one who wasn't Manny slide back into his seat in the cab. She ignored their continued conversation, riveting as it was, shook off a wave of revulsion, and then went into problem solving mode. She was strapped at her wrists, ankles, and chest but after testing her range of motion, she realized they likely hadn't planned on her waking up. The strap across her chest was not particularly tight and was too close to her shoulders. She scooted her body towards her toes, bending her knees slightly, until her face was near the chest strap. Working with her teeth, she began to slide the loose end of the strap from the buckle. The tension from the thick strap caused it to slip back several times but eventually she slid it far enough that friction against the buckle held it.

The muscles in her neck were on fire from the effort but she knew she didn't have much time before Mr. Canuck Pervert in the passenger seat checked on her again. She bit down on the free end of the strap as close to the base as possible and pulled until her teeth and neck screamed. The catch just slipped from the hole freeing the upper half of her body and she lay back for a moment to regain her strength. She wondered if she'd need to spend a little more time with The Company dentist at her next appointment but decided that was preferable to being strapped down in the ambulance with these two.

Time was ticking so she set to repeating the same trick on the strap at her right wrist. With the greater range of motion she was able to undo that strap quickly, freeing her hand to then release the strap at her left wrist. Seconds from being completely free, she paused. To release her ankles she would have to sit up all the way and the driver might see her in the rear-view mirror. Instead she reached across and started releasing Chuck's chest and left hand. This reminded her of a second problem. Chuck was still unconscious so escape might involve her trying to carry his dead weight.

_One thing at a time, Walker._

She went about testing her muscles and sensed that the drug had mostly left her. A moment later she heard Manny use the turn indicator and felt the staccato of lane markers under the tires. Assuming Manny's concentration would be on his side view mirror she snapped her body into a crouch and quickly freed her right ankle. Manny's surprised shout told her she'd assumed wrong.

"What the fuck? The girl's free. Lock her down, _now_!"

While shouting at his companion, Manny slammed the brakes and lurched the ambulance towards the side of the freeway. The change in momentum threw Sarah across Chuck and caused her left ankle to twist painfully in its restraints. Ignoring the pain, Sarah doubled up and pulled the last strap from its buckle then turned to face Mr. Pervert.

She saw two things upon turning: his wide round face set in an expression of stupid determination and a hypodermic needle in his left hand. He launched himself at her, trying to pin her against the ambulance doors, but she quickly rolled onto her back letting him strike his forehead and left hand against the door. The hypodermic dropped from his numbed fingers and dove, needle first for her face. She turned her head reflexively and felt the needle pierce her left cheek, hitting her cheekbone. At the same time she struck out with her right fist and felt her knuckles thud satisfyingly into her attacker's stupid expression. With her left hand she grabbed the needle and thrust it up into where she knew his carotid would be. Without hesitating she buried the plunger.

"You little buuuuh …"

Mr. Pervert slid sideways, face already devoid of expression. Sarah did not wonder what he had intended to say. Just then her concentration shifted and she could tell that the ambulance had stopped. She rolled Mr. Pervert's body on top of Chuck just in time to feel another, larger body crash into her, pinning her to the gurney. Manny sat up with his knees pressing painfully into her shoulders, a broad smile on his, actually fairly handsome, face.

"Hi sweetheart. I'm Manny. That's Laine." He indicated the man slumped over Chuck. "Thanks for putting him down for a nap, by the way. Driving ten hours with that guy could make Ghandi consider violence a viable option. Now … you've gone and gotten yourself overexcited so I think we should give you a little something to calm you down. Will you be a good girl and take your medicine or do I have to mess with that angelic little face of yours?"

_Patronizing motherf … calm Sarah … calm. He's underestimated you. Use it. _

Keeping her eyes wide and scared, she forced tears to well up and let her lower lip tremble.

"Just don't touch me like he did. Please, I'll do whatever you want. Just don't touch me"

"I knew it. That sad, pathetic freak. Don't worry sweetheart, I just want to give you a little something …"

His knee had shifted off her shoulder just enough for her to snake her arm out and knife her fingertips into to his Adam's apple. He rocked back in surprise, allowing her to bring her knee up into his groin. Manny curled into a ball letting out an outraged grunt.

"You stupid …"

_Don't say it. _

"… bitch!"

_Why do they always say that? _

Manny looked furious beyond reason and reached across his body in a way that telegraphed to Sarah that he was going for a gun. Sarah, kicked out with her left heel towards his chin, intending to knock him out, but the vestiges of the drug in her system robbed the blow of its full power. She bloodied Manny's lip and caused him to rock back on his heels, but otherwise he was unaffected. Horrified at her miscalculation, Sarah watched the gun arch out from under Manny's EMT jacket.

The fraction of a second it took for Manny to target her slowed to a crawl, enough for her to realize she'd knocked Manny out of range for a second kick, she had no time or room to dodge, and had no weapons nearby. She became suddenly philosophical as it occurred to her how many times she'd cheated death in much more dire situations than this, but here she was about to lose her life to a man who was clearly under matched in skill.

_Do something Walker! _

The barrel was nearly pointed at her chest.

_9mm … Beretta 92, I think. Not likely to jam. Damn._

She'd always thought her death would serve a purpose, protecting Chuck, saving a colleague, saving a mission. This just seemed so pointless.

_So many things I wanted to do … and to say. God I wish I had more time. I wonder how much it'll hurt. _

The gun had finished its arc. She heard the familiar concussive bark, saw the flash of gunpowder, and closed her eyes …

_Strange. _

She hadn't seen the flash come from the muzzle of the Beretta pointed at her. And she figured being shot would hurt more but the only pain she felt was in her ankle and shoulders. She opened her eyes to see Manny leaning towards her at a dangerous angle, an odd folded-up look on his face. Sarah's sense of time returned as the big man slumped forward onto the gurney, a bloody dark hole behind his right ear.

Realization dawned as she turned to see the horrified visage of Chuck, unable to take his eyes off the man he'd just killed. His left arm was still extended holding a twin of Manny's Beretta, the one his unconscious colleague had been carrying.

"Sarah, I killed him."


	3. Chapter 3

Chuck seemed frozen, afraid to move. Sarah knew this was a delicate moment and pitched her voice to be gentle but commanding.

"Chuck, give me the gun".

He relaxed his fingers but she had to take it from him.

"Okay, I want you to go up front and sit in the passenger seat. Now take this gauze and wipe up any blood you see on yourself. Can you do that?"

He responded to her like a sleepwalker, just barely able to process her commands. There was no look of understanding on his face, only blank shock, but he obeyed robotically.

_God, I hope he doesn't realize that's brain matter on his hand. Poor Chuck. He's going to need me to talk him down but we don't have the time._

Sarah ran down the list of things that needed to be done and prioritized. First she needed to make sure they weren't being tracked and then had to get them moving. She searched Manny's body and her hand closed on a familiar object in his EMT jacket.

_A Ring communicator? Oh, fantastic! Well, at least we know who we're dealing with._

Knowing that the Ring may have been using other devices, she stripped both the body and the unconscious Canadian of possessions, dumping them out the passenger window save a cell phone, the two Berettas, and a large amount of cash in $20s and some smaller bills from Manny's wallet - likely to have been intended for bribes, wherever it was they had been headed. She cleaned Chuck's prints off the one Beretta and slid the other into the waistband of her jeans. Then she grabbed a crowbar from the ambulance's tool kit and disabled the GPS in the center panel. There was a bit more bashing and flying plastic than she liked but she was pressed for time. Too late, she realized it would have been nice to know where they were before demolishing it. Getting behind the drivers seat, she took Chuck's head in her hands and turned him to face her.

"Chuck, I need you to help me. These two are Ring agents, which means we're in some serious trouble. There's no Casey or Shaw here. It's just you and me, so I need you to forget what just happened and help. Can you do that?"

Chuck nodded dumbly, blinked several times, and then his eyes focused on her.

"Yeah … yeah, I'm fine. I'm fine. What do you need?"

He didn't sound fine. She told him to call first Shaw and then Casey while she got the ambulance started and merged back on the freeway. Luckily, the sight of an ambulance on the shoulder hadn't yet attracted the highway patrol.

"Sarah, neither one is answering."

Chuck's voice sounded panicky. She needed to keep him busy while she figured out where they were, but she also needed to get word to Casey.

"Call Morgan. Maybe he's seen Casey at work. Put it on speakerphone."

Morgan picked up in the middle of the first ring. Sarah imagined Morgan watching his phone all morning, waiting for his Chuck to call.

"Chuck, what's up buddy? How's your trip? Oh, dude, I gotta' tell you about the tattoo we found on Jeff's ass."

"Morgan, seriously don't …"

"It's his Mom."

Chuck was speechless. Sarah felt bile at the back of her throat.

"Well it's the word 'Mom', anyway … in barbed wire letters."

"Morgan how did you … actually, never mind. Don't tell me. So, have you seen …"

"And Lester had a busy morning, trying to pick up on one of our customers."

"Since when is this news. Look, could you just …"

"It's news when the woman he was picking up on had a really strong jaw … and an enormous Adam's apple."

Morgan paused waiting for Chuck's laughter but it never came.

"He was picking up on a tranny. Dude, don't you get it?"

Sarah looked to see that Chuck was gritting his teeth making strangling motions with his hands. Chuck was normally superhumanly patient with the Bearded Wonder but he was not handling this well. She put her hand on the back of his neck, soothing a few muscles out and nodded towards the phone. Morgan was waiting.

"Well, I hope he was nice to her. Hey Buddy, sorry to be rushed but have you seen Casey today?"

"I hear ya', you're in a hurry. No problem … but I have to tell you, John Casey is not right. I mean, more not right than normal. He nearly blew a gasket trying to get me to memorize a message for you, word for word. Why not just send an e-mail? I think it's my duty, as Assistant Manager, to suggest anger management classes."

"Morgan, buddy, I don't think a class would even begin to scratch the surface. So what did he say?"

"Pretty much just, 'have a nice trip', blah blah blah. I don't know why I needed to memorize it."

"Morgan!" Chuck took a deep breath, held it and let it out. "Don't you think Casey might be a bit angry if he found out you didn't pass on the message word for word like he asked. He's a bit bigger than me. I don't know how much I could protect you."

"Right … right. Good point. I'm not spending another night in the cage." Morgan cleared his throat then attempted Casey's bass growl, though he sounded more like he was suffering from laryngitis. "Okay, so he said, 'Hope your trip is going well. If you run into any problems, make arrangements with my friends up there. I'll be busy with a surprise audit down here. Lucky you get to miss out. Hope to see you soon, actually'. I mean seriously, this is Casey were talking about. Hope to see you soon?"

"Maybe he's turned over a new leaf. A man can change."

"Uh huh … not buyin' it. That vein in his head nearly blew when I read the message back to him wrong. Anyway, Casey's out for today. Two corporate guys came to meet with him and they all left the store. Casey didn't look happy ... I mean, for Casey he didn't look happy. I thought he was being fired or something but Big Mike said it was just part of the audit. Chuck, can they do that ... you know, divide and conquer and make us turn on each other?"

"I wouldn't worry about it." Sarah looked and saw that Chuck was nearly in a full panic. "Listen buddy, I gotta run. I'll see you when I get back."

Chuck clicked the "call end" button. "What the hell was that, Sarah? Morgan's right, something's seriously wrong."

"I'll tell you in a little bit. Right now …"

"Sarah! What's going on?"

"Look Chuck, I need to think. Now I need you to toss that cell phone out and then be quiet so I can figure out what to do with this ambulance."

The message from Casey and Morgan's mention of the two corporate goons were not welcome news to Sarah. Her mind started buzzing with what it all meant but she put a stop to it and focused on their immediate problem. After checking road signs, she could see that they hadn't made it to Seattle but were headed in that direction, just north of Tacoma on north bound I-5. Sarah guessed that the reason they were so far south of Seattle was that they had been declared a medical emergency, possibly by a Ring agent posing as a doctor, so that the plane was forced to land before it reached its destination. The strategy would have prevented any CIA contacts, waiting for them at Sea-Tac, from interfering with the abduction. There weren't any of course, but the Ring didn't know that.

Sarah knew the Ring would be looking for the ambulance soon and the freeway left them right out in the open, so she headed them back towards Tacoma to hide it. Chuck was falling apart next to her so, while she drove, she had him watch for tails, a non-intersect skill she had taught him recently which would keep him busy. Traffic was relatively light so they got back to downtown quickly, and Sarah followed signs to Tacoma General, where they stashed the ambulance on a quiet side street. At a pay phone, a few blocks away, Sarah called a number she had memorized to deal with any emergencies during the trip.

"Green Earth Dry Cleaning."

"Yes, hi. This is Sondra Wilson, 15789 Bedford Lane. You've done cleaning for me before."

"Yes, Ms. Wilson. It's been several months. How may we help you?"

"I have some cleaning that needs to be taken care of. There's an ambulance on North 5th Street, about mid block between K and L, in Tacoma. There is one dead Ring agent and an unconscious man, his associate, in restraints, gagged. That one may or may not be Ring. The weapon used for killing the one is in the ambulance. My prints and those of another officer are all over the interior."

"That was North 5th street?"

"Yes."

"And you said there were two agents."

"Yes"

_Good lord. Is this one new … or is she stalling?_

"Okay Ms. Wilson, it will be taken care of immediately. I should mention, you have a message from a John Casey. He called us this morning. He wanted you to come in and see us as soon as possible. Are you near the ambulance? I can arrange a pick up in less than three minutes."

Fear ran like ice water over Sarah's skin and she slammed down the receiver.

"Chuck, we need to go!"

"What is it?"

"We've been compromised completely. The agent on the phone was Ring. We need to get away from here quickly."

Sarah saw a bus pulling up to a stop across the street, the Route 16 to Tacoma Community College. Her ankle complained but she sprinted across the street anyway, pulling Chuck with her. She waved down the bus driver, who was nice enough to wait for them, and pulled out some singles from their money roll to pay their fare. They headed towards the back of the bus where they could talk quietly.

"I think we're safe. It looked like several routes left from the stop back there. Even if they traced the payphone, hopefully they won't be able to tell which way we went."

"Sarah, what's going on? What did Casey say? Why can't we trust your contact? You're freaking me out."

"Okay, okay. Don't freak out. Casey's message … it was coded. We worked out the code back when we were just your handlers. Only the two of us knew it in case our operation was ever compromised by Fulcrum. The fact that Casey used it at all is not a good sign but the message is even worse. He used the words, 'arrangements', 'audit', and 'actually', when he didn't need to. In the context he used them, words starting with 'A' either imply danger or a negative. Like when he said we should make arrangements with his friends, he meant don't trust the bridge agent I was supposed to contact. I assumed that meant she was just being monitored, but it might be worse. On the phone just now she said Casey told us to come in, which is exactly the opposite of what his message said, and she used Casey's name. He wouldn't have given his name to her, only a code name."

"What about Casey and the audit?"

Chuck's voice was sounding more panicky.

"The fact that he used the word 'audit' means he's worried he might have been compromised. Possibly had something to do with the two from corporate, like maybe they were Ring agents. Chuck, the worst thing was that he said, 'Hope to see you soon, actually'. It's kind of awkward how he put 'actually' in there, like he was making a point to shoehorn it in so I didn't miss it. Saying 'hope to see you soon' followed by an A-word so out of place like that means he's telling us to stay away. Don't come home."

Sarah realized that telling Chuck not to freak out was an exercise in futility. In fact she was starting to panic herself. While she had been trained to deal with this kind of situation, had planned for it even, she realized she'd grown somewhat reliant on having the support of other agents and assets.

_Nothing like a little slap in the face to wake a girl up. _

She decided to calm herself and Chuck with a little hopeful uncertainty.

"Chuck, our code may have a lot of contextual stuff but it also uses denotative elements that can convey specifics, like numbers, names, times, and places. Casey didn't give any specifics, which may mean he doesn't have much information about what's going on. Maybe he misinterpreted the situation and overreacted. Maybe our abduction and the surprise audit are just a coincidence."

Chuck perked up at that.

"Can't we call Shaw or Beckman and find out?"

"If our operation actually is compromised, then Shaw and Beckman may be monitored by the Ring, or worse … well we won't worry about that. Anyway, if they are being monitored, the Ring would be able to trace any call we make to either of them. By now the Ring has to know we've escaped, may know we're in Tacoma, and will have multiple resources looking for us. We have to err on the side of caution and our only safety is in the Ring not knowing where we are. That means nothing traceable."

"Then what the hell do we do? Do we just go all David Banner, run from town to town, never trusting anyone again?"

_You were nearly willing to do that with me not too long ago. I guess the romance has gone out of it now._

The bitterness of the thought surprised Sarah but she suppressed it.

"Not yet, Chuck. Casey has an asset in Seattle that only he and I know about. If Casey has been captured he'll hold onto that information to the last so we'll have a few days before that contact is compromised. We'll need ..."

"Do you think they'll torture him?"

Sarah said nothing, trying not to think of the techniques she knew they'd be using on her friend. She continued as if Chuck hadn't asked the question.

"We'll need to find some more cash, a lot more, but this guy will be able to help us contact Beckman without being traced and, if we need to run, he'll help with that as well."

"Can't we just tell him we'll get the money when we contact Beckman?"

"Without the cash up front or the history of a working relationship, we're just a couple of nobodies to him. Plus, I doubt he wants to have his name or operation anywhere near Beckman's desk."

"I guess I've just gotten used to you being able to make a call anytime we need something. We really have nothing?"

"Nothing? You've got _me_, Chuck … and the Intersect. I think that's worth something."

"I'm sorry. You're right. I'd still be laid out in that ambulance if you hadn't been there."

"And I'd be dead in that ambulance if you hadn't been there."

"Just tell me you aren't totally freaked out right now."

"I've trained for this, Chuck. We'll be okay."

"You mean that?"

"Mostly."


	4. Chapter 4

"So it's Seattle then?"

"Yup. And it's a good thing, Chuck. Seattle has a higher homeless population. We'll blend in better."

"Homeless?"

"I'm sorry to say it Chuck but we're going to be living outdoors till we get the money together. This was a last minute, and fairly low risk trip so Casey and I didn't have time to set up any stashes, and the cash we got off the …" Sarah paused as Chuck looked away, staring fixedly at the seat back in front of him. "The cash that we took from the ambulance will help but won't get us too far. And there's no way I'm touching the one safe house I know about since it's probably been compromised like everything else. I'm just going to have to show you how we hide on a budget. Hey, it could be worse. At least it's not winter."

This earned her a dark look from Chuck before he went back to staring at the seat back. She could see he was about to pull into himself and become the sleepwalker again so she decided to give him a job to do.

"Chuck, keep your eyes open for a Target."

"Target?"

"Or Large Mart ... whatever. I just figured, with the conflict in loyalties ..."

"Oh, the store, right. What do we need?"

"Sleeping bags, backpacks, makeup, clothes, hoodies, hair dye, hydrogen peroxide, semi-perishable food, water …"

It was an extensive list. Sarah had developed it previously when she had been dubious of Beckman and Casey's intentions for Chuck. Back then she hadn't known if she'd be able to follow through with running off and hiding him but the mental exercise had helped her fall asleep when she was up late worrying. She stopped reading off the list as she realized Chuck was no longer listening.

"Sarah, if you think the contact you called might be a Ring agent, then doesn't the Ring have the ambulance now … with the body in it. Couldn't they just alert the police and have a manhunt out for us. If the Ring can infiltrate the CIA, it couldn't be that hard to get us out of police custody after we've been arrested."

Sarah was happy to see that Chuck's brain was still engaged even if he was having difficulty processing everything.

"I thought of that too, but I don't think the Ring wants the kind of attention that a police investigation would bring. Finding two men, stripped of all belongings, posing as EMTs in an ambulance that picked up two mysterious medical emergencies from a flight to Seattle, and a CIA officer's finger prints all over everything … that might bring more than just the local police in on the investigation. I don't think the Ring wants the FBI involved. Just the same, though, let's keep our distance from the local cops or any other authorities."

The bus had reached the termination of its route at a transit center near the Tacoma Community College and across the street from a strip mall. They crossed the street and made the best of their wad of cash at a Value Village and a Fred Meyer, buying supplies for living outdoors and disguising themselves, as well as a few other items.

Sarah quickly devised, wrote, and mailed a coded message in a letter to Beckman, letting her know that they had been abducted but that they had escaped and were on the run. She had to restrain herself from giving any details but thought Beckman should at least know their status. Then they set to making their transformation in the bathroom of a nearby McDonalds. Sarah had expected some resistance from Chuck, first at being shoved into the Ladies' Room and then to her bleaching his hair and eyebrows blond, but he followed along the way a dog does at the vet once they realize there's no escaping.

Thirty minutes later she examined the two of them in the mirror, judging her work. Chuck's shorter, spikier blonde hair and blonde eyebrows changed his look significantly but he was still too recognizable without sunglasses. While the day had been overcast, there had been a few sun breaks so she decided sunglasses weren't out of the question. She looked at his clothes and they appeared to fit the traveling young punk she was going for.

Her look, on the other hand, was drastically different with dark black hair covering half her face, black eyeliner and lipstick, and white foundation. Her black hoody with skull angel, black shorts with silver metal rivets, black and white striped stockings, and black platform soles rounded out the goth-girl she'd become. Seeing the stockings and shoes at the store had actually given her the idea for the outfit but now she had misgivings as she noticed Chuck's eyes darting to her legs every few seconds. The idea was _not_ to make eyes look her way.

They heard a knock and a woman's voice at the door.

"You okay in there?"

"Yeah, fine. I'll be out in just a minute."

Sarah swore under her breath. _Too late to change anything now._

They began tossing makeup, clothes, and hair supplies in their packs as quickly as possible.

"There are other people that need to use the bathroom, you know."

"Okay, just a second", then to Chuck, "When we walk out the door, don't stop no matter what, and don't look anyone in the face."

They marched out of the bathroom past two women, one of whom hissed at them, "Oh, disgusting. Get a room, for god's sake" as they headed outside. Sarah laughed at herself.

"Well, that was fun, but I guess we can't really cross off 'having sex in a public bathroom' from the list of things to do before dying."

As soon as she said it, she regretted it. The wound that was their abbreviated relationship was still too fresh for her to casually joke about sex they'd never had. Chuck's answer, however, had none of the bitterness she'd expected.

"Speak for yourself."

Sarah looked at Chuck out of the corner of her eye, trying to suppress her curiosity. He had a smug, lopsided smile on his face but instead of elaborating, he changed the subject.

"Didn't anyone tell these people that summer should involve sun? I don't think I'm looking forward to living out of doors."

The day had become steadily more grey since they'd left the ambulance.

"Well, if I haven't lost my touch we shouldn't have to do it for very long …"

It was Chuck's turn to look at her with curiosity.

"… but first things first, we need to get to Seattle."

Chuck looked across the street at the transit center and Sarah followed his gaze.

"Well, I guess that's our best option at the moment. Though it's exactly the kind of place the Ring would be surveilling by now."

Sarah was even more hesitant as the place looked nearly empty at the moment, but the alternatives to public transportation had their own hazards and she didn't want to deal with them if she didn't have to. To assuage her worries, she had them split up to avoid fitting the profile the Ring would be looking for. She sent Chuck across the street first, watching for faces or license plates that would cause him to flash. Seeing him sit down at one of the bus shelters, looking so isolated in the empty expanse of pavement, only increased her unease. She followed, crossing the street at the next light, and was suddenly extremely conscious of the way her legs looked in the striped stockings.

_What the hell was I thinking? I look like a damn beacon._

She made her way to a board with bus route and Sounder train information and began working out an itinerary. A moment later, without making a sound to warn her, a man appeared beside her, perusing the schedules.

_Uh oh._

She immediately looked over her shoulder and saw Chuck making a beeline towards her.

_Did he flash on this guy? Did I miss his signal?_

Looking at the man standing next to her, she realized he was not examining the schedules at all but instead was watching Chuck in the reflection of the glass covering the board. She waved Chuck off with a cutting motion at her hip but she knew it was too late. This was an agent, and he had just made Chuck, if not her as well. She needed to distract him long enough for Chuck to get clear before he signaled anyone.

"Hey baby, you wanna a date?"

The man didn't even look her way and kept his eyes on Chuck. Sarah signaled Chuck to get clear, hoping he saw her.

"Hey, I'm talking to you sugar. You're standing at my shelter like you're looking for something. You need some company?"

"Not interested."

"Well then keep on moving 'cause you're fucking with my business."

Sarah looked out at the mostly empty transit center and regretted her words but the man actually turned and began walking away. A slight hesitation in his step was the only warning she got. His hand disappeared from his side and reached across his body.

_Shoulder holster! _

She closed on him, just as he was about to turn on her, and slashed at the back of his knees with her foot causing him to collapse backwards onto her. Clamping her left arm around his neck and locking with her right, she squeezed his carotid artery, holding on with everything she had. The man bucked her off the ground, slamming her into the pavement and crushing the air out of her lungs, but she held on. Then she saw the agent's gun in his right hand, a moment from blowing her kneecap off.

Her instinct was to release the man and roll away but she held on instead, rolling them both sideways. The 9mm fired and she felt a hundred tiny hot needles stinging her knee and calf. She continued rolling, her only hope of causing the man to miss and she heard him fire again. This time he missed outright and she felt the agent's struggles begin to waiver. He fired wildly once more, and then lost consciousness, the gun dropping from his hand. As she rolled the man aside, she looked to where she'd last seen Chuck, to find him on the ground with two men restraining him.

_No! Damn it, he must not have flashed._

Sarah grabbed the pistol the agent had dropped and slid it into her hoody as she sprinted across the pavement towards her partner, her sore ankle and the stinging pain in her leg completely forgotten. Hearing her footsteps one agent turned to confront her, aiming a pistol shaped weapon with an oversized square barrel.

_Taser!_

Sarah let her feet slip out from under her a moment before the agent fired, the wires just sailing over her head. The upward momentum of her feet added to her kick as her foot slammed into the man's chin, snapping his head back then forward again in a nearly comic mimicry of a bobble head doll. He dropped in a heap, unconscious. Her pack cushioned her fall, allowing her to flip to her feet. As she turned to square off with the second agent her body exploded in pain. She dropped to the ground with her muscles locked in a rigor that wouldn't release, an involuntary gurgling cry in her throat. Apparently the other man had a taser as well.

A moment later her muscles relaxed and she lay unable to move, her breath returning in shallow gasps. Through blurred vision she could see the man pulling zip ties from a pocket and knew that in a moment, escape would not be possible. Then she saw Chuck's body reanimate, kicking the agent's feet out from under him. As the man fell, Chuck's legs pin wheeled and he brought one foot down hard on the agent's solar plexus. The agent's breath left him with an "oof" and he curled into a protective fetal position. Chuck finished the man's consciousness for the next few moments with a fist to the back of his head.

As she had seen so many times recently, the handwringing nerdiness had transformed into stern, disciplined action. Chuck dropped to his knees at Sarah's side, threw one of her arms over his shoulder, and pulled her to her feet.

"Sarah, you okay?"

"Yeah. Don't let go." Her voice was hoarse and weak. "Need to get out of the open, quick."

Chuck grabbed his pack with his other hand and dragged it and Sarah towards a black Crown Victoria, door open, motor running. He eased Sarah into the passenger seat, closed the door, and ran around to the driver's side, tossing his pack into the back. As Chuck slid into the drivers seat, Sarah's reasoning returned to her.

"The agents came in this car, didn't they? How did I miss it?"

"Don't know. I missed it too, 'til it was too late."

"You flashed back there, didn't you?"

"Yeah, but I'm not flashing now. Where should I go?"

"Get us out of the transit center then off the major streets. We need to find a residential neighborhood."

As Chuck pulled out onto 19th, Sarah examined her leg. There were a number of small holes in the stocking but no blood or evidence of an entrance wound. She tore the stocking and saw a red speckled rash, the result of the spray of aggregate from the asphalt dislodged by a ricochet. Relieved, she got her limbs moving, slipping out of her shorts and hoody and rolling the stockings off. She noticed Chuck's eyes track sideways, appraising her naked legs.

"Eyes on the road, Chuck."

Chuck's face reddened as his eyes flicked forward. Sarah pulled jeans and a grey sweatshirt out of her pack and slid into them.

"Had to get those stockings off. The Ring will have a description of us now. Turn right here."

"What are we doing?"

"We have to get rid of this car. They'll be looking for it."

"Okay, how are we getting to Seattle then?"

"Well, it looks like public transit, trains, and Greyhound are out of the question, the Ring has those covered, and cabs are too expensive. I think we'll need to borrow a car … a different car."

"Borrow?"

"Okay, steal."

Chuck gave her a truly shocked look, the first strong reaction to anything she'd said since he'd shot Manny.

"Steal a car? Sarah, no!"

Sarah smiled inwardly while shaking her head. _Chuck! Don't ever change._

They had nearly been captured by the Ring minutes before, had only just escaped their custody earlier that morning, and here he was, worrying about the ethics of stealing a car. A warm bubble of affection welled up from a suppressed corner of her heart, surprising her in winning out over the impulse to shake him by the shoulders till his head fell off.

_He's still my Chuck._


	5. Chapter 5

Sarah and Chuck huddled together in the doorway of a vacant business in Seattle's university district trying to remain as invisible as possible. Across the street, early twenty-somethings were chasing down their Sunday evening, dodging the frequent rain showers that had begun a few hours earlier. The digital display outside the bank just up the block said it was just past ten o'clock and it was 55 degrees out.

_The day after July 4th and it's 55 degrees and raining? Why couldn't we be hiding out in LA or San Diego?_

Sarah's mood was decidedly grumpy. Up until the rain had started, she had been feeling somewhat optimistic about things. In Tacoma, on the second block they'd cased, they had been blessed with an absolute gift of a car, begging to be stolen. White '94 Honda Prelude, screened from the street by juniper trees and owners on vacation, judging by the newspapers piled up on the porch.

They had parked the Crown Vic around the corner and down the block to keep the Ring off their trail then walked back to the house. It turned out that, not only were the car's doors unlocked, but the garage was easily broken into to obtain the tools for disabling the ignition lock. Once she had explained that they were only borrowing the car and that insurance would likely take care of any damage, Chuck had watched her drill the ignition lock with fascination. It had been years since she'd stolen a car this way, years since she'd had to, but she felt the old thrill return as if she were still 16. And with it had come the familiar oppressive guilt, that she was a gypsy, an outsider just passing through peoples' lives, taking what she needed and leaving nothing in return. She could see that the near future held for her a number of old ghosts.

Sarah had known better than to be overconfident at their luck. The owners of the car could return that evening, meaning the police would be alerted, so she gave them one hour until they ditched the car. That gave her enough time to get them to a mall 10 miles south of Seattle and just off the freeway in Tukwila. She liked leaving the car here since it gave the appearance that the theft was a joyride by teenagers, and it didn't hurt that the mall was serviced by buses to Seattle.

The car ride had seemed to improve Chuck's spirits. He'd begun talking, unprompted, avoiding discussion of their situation but recounting road trips with Morgan or his fraternity bothers at Stanford. He had continued his chatty mood as they rode the Route 150 until they reached downtown Seattle, but while waiting for the #73 bus to the University District **—** Sarah didn't want to stay downtown with all of the extra security cameras **—** the rain had begun and Chuck had turned inward again.

Now, huddled together, sharing a sour mood and a meal of crackers, salami, cream cheese, and bottled water, she couldn't get more than one word answers out of him. She decided that this was as good a time as any to deal with the dead body haunting Chuck.

"You're thinking about this morning, aren't you?"

"What?"

"You're thinking about the body, the agent you killed."

"I don't know. Maybe. Doesn't matter."

"It doesn't matter? Chuck, seriously, do you think I'm going to let you get away with that? I'm your partner. Talk to me."

"I'm fine, Sarah. I'll figure it out."

"Mmm-hmm. Why do you think you have to hold it in?"

"You're one to talk."

Sarah took a few slow breaths to keep her calm. The thing that most drove her crazy about Chuck's new tendency to deflect was how perfectly he had learned it from her.

She tried again. "You know Chuck, being agents means we have to deal with …"

"Look, I already know how the conversation goes, Sarah. 'Chuck, if you want to be an agent, you may have to kill people and you can't feel anything about it'. Well, I'm not you or Casey or Shaw. You know, some of us just aren't made to be able to kill people and not feel bad. I'm not a friggin' robot." Chuck winced. "Oh … Sarah, I'm sorry. I didn't …"

Sarah's anger sprinted right past calming breaths and found its voice, taking her by surprise.

"Is that who you think I am? You really think I'm a cold-blooded murderer? Is that what you think?" Chuck was shaking his head vigorously but she wasn't going to let him stop her. "Chuck, the first time I killed someone, it was the worst night of my life. Don't you _dare_ say that means nothing to me! How dare you! Every time it happens I see it as a failure … to control the situation, to plan ahead … _whatever_!"

She paused a moment to regain her momentum

"And don't you go thinking that I want _you_ to get used to killing people, Chuck. Do you really think I care so little about you? I _never_ wanted you to become a killer! You see good in people, even the ones that don't deserve it. It drives me crazy, but it's what I love about you."

Sarah broke off.

_Damn it, damn it! Why did I just say that?_

The lid on her feelings had slipped just a crack but that was enough for them to erupt, messy and disordered. The look on Chuck's face told her he hadn't missed any of it … and apparently neither had some of the passers by. One doesn't shout the word "kill" when they want to remain unnoticed.

"Let's go!"

Sarah barked the command at Chuck, picked up her pack and stalked off. Chuck had to run to catch up with her. The rain had fortunately subsided for the moment and, as she led them away from the U. District towards the freeway, she let her anger cool. Chuck made a foray at apology.

"I'm sorry Sarah. I didn't mean … I was just kinda freaking out. I guess I always feel like a disappointment to you and Casey because I let all this stuff bother me. I'd really never thought how killing an agent effected you."

"Well, just so you know, I'm not an unfeeling robot."

"I know that. I've always known you weren't."

Sarah realized the entire focus of the conversation had turned from Chuck to her, which always managed to make her uncomfortable. She decided to get the discussion back where it belonged.

"Chuck, you aren't a disappointment to me. Most officers have emotions, just like everyone else, though they learn to suppress them. But when they go out into the field, if they end up killing someone, they usually get a chance to talk to a Company psychologist if they need it. I'm not trying to push you or anything but it's sometimes helpful to talk about it."

"Yeah, I guess. But what can I say to change anything? It's done. I can't take it back."

"Do you wish you could take it back?"

"No. That's not what I mean. I would never have let him shoot you. I'd take that shot again a thousand times. It's just … I can't stop seeing it again, and again, _and again_ in my head. It's crystal clear, like I recorded it and then keep rewinding and playing it back. All I see is the side of his face, the moment the light went out after … after I pulled the trigger."

Chuck's words perfectly described the aftermath of her first kill.

"I know that feeling. It's like your mind is replaying its favorite scene in a movie over and over but instead of your favorite movie it's the worst thing you've seen in your life."

"Yeah, exactly. And every time it replays I keep thinking …"

Chuck broke off but Sarah gently finished his thought.

"That you're the one that made it happen?"

"Yes. God, Sarah, I'm not a killer."

"I know."

Chuck's voice was a mixture of relief and defeat. Sarah could feel everything he was feeling, remembering that awful night. She pulled him into her arms and he held her to him, though she sensed no sexual intent. As she ran her nails through his curls, stroking the back of his head, she felt him sigh deeply, almost a sob. At that moment she realized how long it had been since she'd felt such a true connection with another human being; the last time had probably been with this same man. Words began piling up in her throat of all the things she had kept to herself for these many years. She hadn't been aware how much she needed to tell someone but now it was aching to come out. This was Chuck's time though, not hers, and she remained silent, letting him take as long as he needed. Finally he released her.

"Does it go away, Sarah? It has to, right? The constant replay?"

"Yes, it get's better. You'll see that image less and less, but it never goes away completely."

Sarah wondered if any of her own ghosts would come back to haunt her tonight.

"So how do I sleep, then? Every time it gets quiet, every time I have time to think, it just comes back."

Sarah could see that Chuck was sagging from exhaustion. Rather than answer him, she led him further under the bridge, next to a support to block the wind, and began setting out their bedroll: a tarp to block moisture, pieces of cardboard from a box she'd swiped from the garage where they'd stolen the car, and a couple of sleeping bags which they zipped together. They took their shoes off and slid into the sleeping bags spooning each other for warmth. With her body cupped around Chuck, she soothed the muscles in the back of his neck, feeling a maternal desire to lull him to sleep.

"Chuck, you just have to learn how to distract yourself, to tell yourself that you're allowed to forget. You don't need to do penance."

"How do you distract yourself with no video games or TV?"

Sarah snickered, thinking Chuck was being sarcastic, but immediately felt bad when she realized he wasn't. She thought a moment about how she had survived the many long nights since becoming an officer of the CIA.

"Sometimes when I can't sleep I try to remember one of my favorite days. I try to recall how I woke up, what I had for breakfast, how the sun or the breeze or the ocean felt on my toes, who I spent the day with and what we talked about. I just let the details come to me in whatever order they do. You could just tell me about a favorite day with Ellie or Morgan."

Chuck's silence and deep breathing told her that wouldn't be necessary. Apparently exhaustion and her hand on his neck had worked well enough tonight. She decided to take her own advice, though, and let her thoughts drift.

They took on the hazy glow of memory, another summer, many years past, the aqua marine of a swimming pool, sunlight reflecting from the droplets liberated by a grade schooler finishing a cannonball, and the sounds of laughing and shouting children. She was diving off the high dive, making the twists and somersaults that her natural athleticism allowed her with little effort. She was trying to impress her new friends, several boys and a girl she'd met at a park the previous day. They had asked her if she wanted to go swimming with them and she'd said yes with such enthusiasm she was afraid that they would make fun of her. But they hadn't, and when she'd showed up at the pool they were there, waiting for her, just like they said they would. It was like having real friends and if she tried hard enough she could forget that she and her father would be on the run again in another three days. For just that one moment, showing off on the high dive, she could convince herself that she had obtained the one thing she desired more than any other, that she belonged. Pulling herself tight against Chuck's back she wondered if she would ever let herself experience that feeling again.


	6. Chapter 6

Chuck reluctantly slid out of a pleasant dream to find himself in an interesting situation. His right arm was completely devoid of sensation, the entire right side of his body felt bruised, and he had the deep body ache and shiver from the chill of the morning. On the other hand, the most beautiful woman in his world, the one who'd stolen his heart from the first day they'd met, had the entire length of her body pressed tightly against his, with his face buried in the dazzling scent of her hair.

As Chuck rolled onto his back to bring circulation to his arm, Sarah snuggled to his new position, allowing no separation between them. She shivered slightly, mumbling in her sleep, and Chuck's heart melted instantly; he had rarely seen her so vulnerable. He recalled another morning, the two of them on the run, waking up with Sarah in his arms. So many things had changed since then, several for the worse, but here she was running with him again, doing everything she could to protect him. And with how he'd been the previous day, she was so understanding, soothing him to sleep. Despite their situation and his aching body, Chuck felt lighter than he had in months and, on the spot, resolved to make Sarah feel the same when she woke up.

He carefully slid out from behind her, stood up, stretched, and examined their "campsite". Their bags looked untouched, though a few ants appeared to have found the open package of crackers. He sealed the crackers, deposited the thinning cash roll in his jacket pocket, stepped into his shoes, and, realizing he was already dressed, set off in search of morning fuel.

The sun was already above the horizon, lighting a postcard scene of downtown Seattle, Lake Union, and the Space Needle. The weather seemed to be promising a much better day than the previous one. Chuck headed west toward the edge of the bridge's shadow and found himself climbing a hill through a residential section of craftsman style homes and well tended gardens. Birds chirped, bees buzzed, and Chuck fought the urge to whistle while he walked.

As he suspected, after climbing several blocks, he found a coffee shop, Irwin's, actually a combined coffee shop and bakery. He considered his appearance briefly but, anticipating the manna that waited, didn't let it stop him. Inside, the smell of coffee and baked goods caused a mental dislocation, and for the next several minutes, Chuck's stomach did the talking. He emerged from Irwin's carrying two tall cups of drip, orange juice, and a satisfyingly full bag of baked goods. As he walked back downhill it occurred to him that he had no idea if he and Sarah had any means to obtain more cash, but the blueberry muffins and croissants in the bag spoke to him of their tastiness and his worries melted away.

Back at their sleeping spot, Chuck found Sarah wrapped like a burrito in the sleeping bag with only her eyes and the pink of her nose exposed; apparently she'd removed her goth makeup the night before. Smiling, he popped the top of one of the coffees and wafted the aroma towards the tiny window where her face showed. He was rewarded with a pretty sigh and two blue eyes regarding him with mild confusion.

"Where did you get coffee?" Sarah's voice was still sleep inflected.

"It's Seattle. It wasn't hard. I've got orange juice and pastries too." Chuck held up the bag.

"Chuck, how much did all that cost?" Her forehead wrinkled in disapproval but her eyes focused lustily on the white bag carrying breakfast.

"I think you should take a bite of this blueberry goodness …", he produced a heaping muffin, "… before we talk about that."

Sarah's hands emerged from her cocoon and lovingly retrieved the muffin. Chuck watched expectantly as she broke a substantial piece from the top and pressed it into her mouth, closing her eyes in mild ecstasy. He decided his first mission of the day had been a success and set to consuming his own provisions.

Neither spoke for the next few minutes and they ate their breakfast to each others' contented sighs and the rumbling traffic overhead. Muffins and O.J. consumed, they sat sipping their coffee, wrapped in an endorphin haze that the reality of their situation couldn't yet penetrate.

"Do you think blueberries were sent by the gods to make up for all the bad stuff in life?"

Chuck could only smile and agree with this sparkling little non sequitur. "I think you may be on to something."

"Mmmm. Thank you, Chuck ... for breakfast ... and for making today start out _so_ much better than yesterday."

"We're still homeless, on the run, and have no money ... but I'm cool with 'better than yesterday'. And I'm the one who should be thanking you, by the way."

"Well, I can't think of anyone I'd rather be homeless with."

Sarah's smile was brilliant and free of irony and Chuck's heart leapt, even as he tried to tell himself that she was just being friendly. He just couldn't help it. It was Sarah after all.

"We do make a pretty good team. Speaking of which, what's the plan for today? Selling our bodies for cash? Knocking over convenience stores? Bank robbing spree?"

"It's good to know you're taking our situation so seriously."

"What? I _was_ being serious." Chuck flashed his brightest grin. "I'm sure the Intersect has something on criminal activities."

"While I don't doubt the Intersect, I had something else in mind."

Chuck waited for her to elaborate but she was not forthcoming. Instead, she had him turn the other way while she rifled through their bags. When she let him turn back around, he could see she had changed into a purple T-shirt along with the black shorts from the day before, and was applying makeup. After donning sunglasses, her black hair pulled back under a baseball cap, she looked like a typical college student, bumming around until classes started in the fall.

"How do I look?"

"Great. Much better than yesterday."

Her eyes rolled briefly with impatience

"I _mean_, do I look like me? Will I be recognized?"

"Nope, you don't look like you exactly … well … I mean I know it's you but I don't think it comes right out and screams 'Sarah' but …"

Sarah smiled, "That's good enough, Chuck … though I'm going to have you use the Intersect to spot Ring agents just in case. I can't cover up my face more than this for what we're doing. If you see any Ring, CIA, or FBI agents, you whistle our signal."

"Umm … what exactly _are_ we doing?"

"You'll see, although you may not like it."


	7. Chapter 7

Chuck was finding it difficult to keep his mind on the task at hand. He was following Sarah up and down University Avenue, or The Ave as he'd heard a few locals call it. He stayed several steps behind, watching passing pedestrians and cars to see if he flashed … or that's what he was supposed to be doing but his concentration kept getting pulled back to the mesmerizing figure eight-motion of Sarah's compact bottom.

_Come on, Chuck. You know how to be disciplined. Like how you always wait until you clear an area in CODMW2 before taking bathroom or snack breaks._

He'd been more on task the first pass up The Ave when he'd expected to flash on nearly everyone, but he had relaxed and now his mind was wandering. His clothes were bugging him as well. Sarah had again changed his look, pulling out the oversized T-shirt and green jacket she'd bought for him, as well as a pair of miss-matched grey slacks that looked like they'd been taken from a Salvation Army rack. They spent a few minutes abusing his shoes into well worn shape and then Sarah topped him off with a long defunct Sonics fisherman's cap she'd found in a refuse drift against one of the bridge supports. Chuck had inspected it carefully, finding nothing crawling in it, but he still had his doubts.

Now, shambling around the U district with a couple of days' scruff on his face he knew he looked like a homeless person, particularly apparent by the way groups of people parted around him. He looked to see that his partner was still steadily gliding along in front of him.

_What's she looking for? I _am_ her partner, after all. She could at least fill me in on the plan. _

Just as he finished the thought, he saw Sarah stumble straight into the arms of a middle-aged man walking the opposite direction. She giggled, tossed back her hair and smiled at the man, adjusting her black lenses. They exchanged a few more smiles and then, with another toss of her hair she was off again leaving the guy staring, bemused, in her direction.

_What the hell was that? I thought we were supposed to be blending. _

A minute later, further down the street, she repeated the performance. This time, as she leaned into the man, Chuck saw a flash of money in Sarah's hand before it disappeared into her shorts pocket.

_She just picked his pockets! _

Chuck had barely seen it. He didn't even see her open his wallet to take the money out, just a barely discernible image of a wad of bills disappearing into Sarah's pocket. One part of his mind was awed by the skill with which she did it and with the way she left the men slightly dazed and smiling, but another part of him disapproved. When the sidewalk in front of Sarah was clear he sped up until he was walking a couple of paces behind her.

"Sarah, what are you doing? Those weren't the bad guys. We can't just rob regular people."

"We don't have a lot of options, Chuck. Besides, both of those men could afford to lose it, considering the shoes they were wearing. And how else do you expect us to get money? You really want to go rob a bank?"

"No, I was kidding about that. But what do we do when those guys call the police? What do we do when they come looking for you?"

"They probably won't call the police since I didn't take their wallets. They'll just think they left the money somewhere. I've done this hundreds of times …" She faltered and looked at the ground for a moment. "… obviously not recently. Now quit walking next to me. We don't need anyone putting the two of us together."

Chuck couldn't exactly disagree with Sarah, first because she was usually right, but second, because he didn't have the slightest idea how they could get money without some kind of thievery. It was just a bit eye opening to see how easily Sarah could slip into her past … and how good she was at it.

"Okay, but at least give me the money. If the police do come looking for you it would look bad for you to have a wad of cash."

"That was the plan. Just not here, out in the open, or it'll be obvious that we're working together."

Chuck and Sarah continued their "harvesting" operation, moving to a different section of the U. district, but it soon became obvious that there weren't many people in the area that fit the profile Sarah was looking for. A little after 1pm they regrouped back on the West side of the I-5 bridge. Sarah looked dejected.

"I was really hoping this would be more efficient. How much did we get?"

"$460"

"Off of five people?" Sarah shook her head.

"And how much do we need?"

"I don't know exactly, but I'm not going to Casey's contact with less than $6,000."

Chuck nearly choked. "$6000! To call Beckman?"

"No, the majority is for the event that we need to disappear permanently. We'll need passports, among several other things. I'm not saying it's the most likely outcome, but if it's what we need to do then I don't want to have to come back a second time after we've scraped the cash together. We see him once or not at all."

"Okay, $6000 it is." He thought about the numbers for a moment and tried to sound nonchalant. "Well, we just made $460 in about three hours so that's only thirty-seven or so more hours until we hit $6000."

The look Sarah gave him made him feel as if he'd failed remedial arithmetic.

"Chuck, do you think I can carry on picking people's pockets like this for a week without someone alerting the police? Robbing a few people isn't as risky but $6000 worth? Besides, I don't want to be out of contact with Beckman for that long and ..." Sarah tucked her top lip between her teeth, eyes fixing on a distant point. "... and the Ring will eventually get the name of the contact ..."

Chuck knew exactly what thought had made her pause and, like Sarah, didn't want to think about it either.

"Okay, Sarah, so we continue our operation where people have more money, like by a ritzy mall or something."

"People don't carry much cash to malls. We would need to find a place where people carry a lot of cash and could afford to lose it."

"What about robbing drug dealers? They carry cash and wouldn't go to the police. And I wouldn't exactly feel bad about taking their money."

"Chuck, seriously? You want to go rob people with guns? Or more accurately, you want _me_ to rob people with guns? Besides, if you don't like the thought of killing people, robbing drug dealers isn't the best idea. You rob a low level dealer of a day's revenue and there's a good possibility they're not long for the world."

"Okay, quit looking at me like I'm an idiot. I'm not the one who grew up with a life of crime." Sarah's eyes opened wide. "Oh god, Sarah. I'm sorry … again. I don't know why I keep saying stupid things."

Sarah sighed deeply. "No need to apologize. It's true."

"Well, now I feel like an ass. Look, you should be proud of your past because it's what's saving our butts right now. I'm just dead weight at the moment."

Sarah's dejected look turned to a sly smile.

"Dead weight that knows where to find tasty muffins and coffee."

"Damn straight."

"And I appreciate that you're trying to help with ideas to get money. I would tell you to leave that up to me, but at the moment I'm not coming up with anything. I'm just not focusing. Maybe I need to eat something."

"Lunch? That's a fantastic idea, but let's not eat here. How about down by the water somewhere? You know, enjoy a little sun … a little view."

Chuck had been hoping for a little quality time with Sarah on this trip to test the waters and see how close she was to Shaw. As badly timed as it was, he was still determined.

"This isn't a vacation, Chuck."

"Of course it isn't. See, we'd be going down to the water because … Carole Takai's boat is moored on Lake Union, right? Maybe we could catch her meeting with her Ring contact there. It would be like surveillance."

This got a smile from her. "You're so full of shit."

"While that may be true it's still nicer to get your head straight in a place that doesn't have 18-wheelers thundering over your head. Tell me I'm wrong."

"Okay, fine."

"Really?"

"Yes."

_She must need lunch or something. That was way too easy._

The mismatched pair meandered through the neighborhood towards Lake Union as if they were taking a relaxing weekend stroll, passing joggers and dog walkers as they went.

"You know, Sarah, you're having to relive your past life of crime, I'm having to deal with the fact that I killed someone yesterday, and we're both being hunted by a criminal intelligence agency … but it's a damn beautiful day, isn't it?"

"Mmmm, it is … but you know what would make it perfect?"

"What's that?"

"A shower."

"Oh, don't even tease me like that. My clothes feel like they're sticking to me."

"I won't just tease. I'll make it a reality."

Chuck looked to see that Sarah's attention was focused on a couple hopping into a Subaru which was packed to the gills with camping equipment and topped with a pair of kayaks. The couple ran through a quick checklist in the car then took off.

"Seems like they won't be needing their house for a little while. Let's take a look, shall we?"

Chuck, attempting to stick with the spirit of what he'd said earlier, decided not to, once again, question the morality of Sarah's intentions.

"Okay, just promise me we won't get caught."

"I promise … that I'll do my best to make sure we don't get caught."

"That's encouraging."

_Sarah … being impractical? This is new. _

Sarah rifled through her pack, found what she was looking for, and led them across the street to the house's front porch. She rang the doorbell and waited nearly a minute before telling Chuck to stand behind her and screen her from the street. Chuck wondered about the prudence of looking like a homeless person standing on the porch of a house in a good neighborhood, but Sarah didn't seem to give it a second thought. She leaned into the door and stood on her toes to peer through its decorative glass, like she was looking to see if anyone was home. Meanwhile, her hands were working the lock with a small Allen wrench and a piece of wire bent into a series of ridges. Less than half a minute later they were walking through the door.

"Sorry, that would've gone smoother if I'd had the proper tools instead of the ones I stole from that garage in Tacoma."

"Oh, gee, I thought you were just slipping or something. That took, what … a whole twenty seconds." Chuck rolled his eyes for Sarah's benefit. "You know you're just bragging now, right?"

Sarah ignored him and was scanning the entrance. She found a sheet of paper on an entryway table and read it out loud.

"Sarah, you have our cell numbers if you need to get a hold of us, but if you can't reach us, the number for the ranger's station is 360-555-2128. We're expecting a package either tomorrow or the day after, so let us know if it doesn't arrive. Otherwise, if you want to hang out, feel free to raid the fridge and use the entertainment center as you like." She stopped reading. "Apparently they expected me."

"I don't think they wrote that for you."

"How do you know, spoilsport?"

Sarah stuck her tongue out at him and wandered further through the house, a happily cluttered two story craftsman. She seemed almost manically cheery while peering at the décor and furniture. Chuck wondered at her uncharacteristic mood but was immediately drawn to the entertainment center with large flat screen, Xbox 360, Wii, PS3, and a library of games and DVDs.

"Leave it, Chuck."

"What? I was just looking."

"Mmm-hmm. The way a wolf is 'just looking' at an injured caribou. The less we touch, the less we have to put back the way it was later."

Chuck mumbled under his breath. "Who's the spoilsport?"

"It looks like they've already brought in the mail and paper for the day so this 'Sarah' person may not be by 'til tomorrow. Still, we can't be sure so, while one of us takes a shower, the other will have to be lookout. Who showers first?"

"Ladies first."

"Oh, I see. We're still living in the 1950s?"

"Okay, fine. I'll go first."

Sarah's mock annoyance evaporated.

"No, you're right, I think I will go first."

"We could go at the same time." Chuck smirked and Sarah smiled back in a way he could swear was flirtation.

"Nice try, but someone has to keep watch … which would be you since I'm going first. Three knocks if you see someone coming."

She grabbed her pack, climbed the stairs to the second storey, and disappeared around the corner with a broad smile on her face. Chuck followed the sound of her steps wondering again at the change in her mood. She had seemed almost coquettish, arguing about who got the first shower and teasing him about the video games. Then he remembered the joke she had so casually made the day before, about them not having had sex in the McDonald's bathroom.

_And didn't she say something last night like, 'that's what she loved about me'. Could this be another thaw between us? _

He took up position in the shadow of the entertainment center, opposite the big front window where he could see anyone approaching the front walk.

_I know she's been seeing Shaw and all and I can't blame her for that. That bastard is a genetic masterpiece … and I guess it did look like I rejected her in Prague. But I don't know how serious they are. Jeez, I thought I'd gotten good at reading her but I can't tell what she's thinking now. _

Chuck became alert as a lone female came up the sidewalk in front of the yard but she passed the path to the porch and continued up the street.

_Does she think that we're continuing from where we left off at that train station? _

The idea attempted to germinate into full-blown hopefulness but he tried to quash it, knowing his optimism often got the better of him. Shaw was more of a match for her than he ever could be, after all. Still, the idea that she was warming to him refused to die so, to distract himself, he thought about how nice a shower would be. Unfortunately this lead to him picturing what Sarah looked like while showering and then he was trying to keep two thoughts out of his head at the same time.

A few agonizing minutes later, he heard Sarah's voice from the top of the stairs. "Your turn."

He looked up to see her wearing the same shorts and T-shirt and toweling off her hair, which was now a somewhat lighter shade than before the shower.

"That took you, what … a little over ten minutes. I can't even get showered and dressed in that time … and I don't have long hair."

"Shaved my legs and brushed my teeth too."

"Bullshit."

This elicited a quick, gloating smile from Sarah.

"You know they taught us special techniques on how to shower quickly at The Farm, right? It's a critical skill for an agent."

"Seriously?"

Sarah rolled her eyes. "No, not seriously. I'm just fast and you're slow. Speaking of which, get your butt upstairs and take your shower if you want one. And don't take forever."

"Whatever. I'm totally fast."

"You shower like a girl. Now _go_."

Chuck ran upstairs, determined to prove Sarah wrong. After stripping off his homeless gear and jumping in the shower he found it difficult not to think about how the banter between them had become so light and easy all of the sudden. The idea that things were warming between them returned, even though he knew some of it was due to their situation, being isolated from their normal life. In his heart he knew he couldn't give up hope until there was none. She was the only one who could make him feel so out of sorts and, at the same time, so perfectly happy in his own skin. He thought about all the moments they'd had between them and how it felt like they'd formed a connection that transcended all their differences and all the barriers.

Chuck noticed he'd spaced out in the stream of hot water and hurriedly finished his shower. He toweled off, brushed his teeth with the Fred Meyer toothbrush and toothpaste, and dressed while staring at the blonde stranger in the mirror. Tossing the toiletries in his pack he ran down stairs, waiting to hear it from Sarah about the sedate pace of his bathing habits. Instead, he found her sitting silently in an overstuffed chair, chin in palms, staring out the front window, deeply melancholy and faraway.

_Whoa. She's not usually one for big mood swings like this._

"Hey, what's the matter?"

"What? Nothing. I'm fine." Sarah jumped up from the chair and grabbed her pack. "We should get out of here before the house-sitter comes over."

Chuck had seen her do it several times before, the way she'd cover an emotion she didn't want him to see by creating a sense of urgency for the moment. He had completely missed it at first but since he'd gotten to know her better, he was surprised how often she did it.

_So why is she being so bipolar now?_

A hint of intuition tickled the edge of his consciousness. The day before he remembered seeing her go through the same swing, manic to sullen, when she'd stolen that Honda. Then this morning he'd noticed she had a lighter step when they were walking over to the University District but she seemed really down when they regrouped under the bridge.

_Irrationally happy followed by irrationally guilty. Like a Catholic, except with crime instead of sex. Oh no! And that means the flirting was probably just her being manic. It had nothing to do with me. Should have known it. I knew it was too good to be true. _

Chuck's heart dropped swiftly from the high altitudes it had been flying since earlier that morning. The feeling had been too common after he'd first met Sarah, always hitting the highest highs followed by the lowest lows. He wouldn't let himself wallow in self-pity, however, as Sarah was still his partner and friend. Regardless of their lack of romantic ties, she at least deserved his help, as she was wrestling with the demons from her past life. A strange, slightly crazy idea occurred to him and he blurted it out before he thought better of it.

"You know. It'd be a shame to borrow these peoples' place for showers and not do anything for them in return. I noticed that, with the way they've got their components hooked up, they're missing out on better audio and video quality."

"Chuck, are you serious? It's best if we don't move anything. They'll never notice that we took showers but they'd definitely notice if we rearrange all their component connections."

"And then what? They'll call the police to report a criminal AV improvement? Come on, haven't you ever randomly done something nice for people? It's kinda fun"

"How long would it take?"

"Five or ten minutes. They've got everything I need."

"You really want to do this?"

"You gonna let me do this?"

Sarah's lips twisted sideways in contemplation. "Yes … but get going before I change my mind." Then more to herself, "This is crazy."

As she said it she began stacking magazines on the coffee table and then continued tidying up around the living room. Chuck attempted to keep his chin from hitting the floor, but rather than questioning the prudence of Sarah following along with one of his ridiculous ideas, he got to work. As he began pulling jacks and wrapping himself in cables, he heard Sarah humming while she worked.

_Maybe I guessed right for once. Maybe this _is_ what she needed. _

Fifteen minutes later they stood side by side, surveying their handiwork.

"Thank you, Chuck … for the second time today." Sarah bumped him with her hip.

"For what? I didn't do anything."

"That's how you're gonna be, huh. Well, thank you anyway. I don't suppose you have any ideas for how we could make some cash, do you?"

"I thought you were the expert."

"Honestly, I don't know how useful I am right now. All the sudden I'm second-guessing every decision I've made since the ambulance. Second-guessing leads to fear and next is paranoia. Paranoia is the enemy of every intelligence officer. It get's people killed. And on top of that I'm doing risky things like breaking into people's houses just to take a shower."

Chuck heard the rising level of frustration and irrationality in Sarah's voice and recognized in it something he'd seen both with his sister and with Morgan.

_She needs food ... soon._

"Hey, hey … enough of that. You're the same bad ass Sarah Walker I've always known. We haven't been caught yet and that's all been due to you. Now we're going to go down to the water to eat a nice lunch. We'll both get our perspective back in place and then we're going to come up with a brilliant idea together that's going to get us out of this."

"Wow, you have a lot of faith."

"I have faith in you because you've never let me down and I have faith in us because we're a good team together. Now let's get moving because we're hungry and we shouldn't stay here any longer."

Sarah gave Chuck an appraising look and a slow smile crept from her lips to her eyes.

"Still down by the water, huh."

"I'm telling you … surveillance."

"Uh-huh." She shook her head, laughing. "Alright, you, off we go."


	8. Chapter 8

Chuck and Sarah left the house they'd broken in to, Sarah taking care to pick the lock again and set the deadbolt. They returned to their stroll through the neighborhood, heading southwest. Houses gave way to apartments and then to light industrial until they reached the parking lot for what Sarah said was a park, remembering from her previous trips to Seattle.

As they walked over a small berm and through a screen of trees, the rusted monstrosity of an old gas works rose in front of them. A green commons surrounded it, seeming to honor the ruins like a 20th century Stonehenge, the grassy slopes and fields littered with park goers enjoying the reprieve from the previous day's weather. The contrasts of the modernity of the Seattle skyline in the background, the crowded cheeriness of the park itself, the peaceful rippling of Lake Union filled with boats of every description, and the dark menace of the old, rusted pipes and tanks made an indelible image in Chucks already overburdened memory.

"Wow. What an odd idea for a park … but I think I like it."

"Me too. I can't put my finger on what it is but I've always thought there was something beautiful about it."

Sarah led him down to a row of benches, set back into a concrete wall along the water, only a narrow walkway between wall and water. Each bench was like a private booth for viewing the spectacle of the lake and skyline. They replaced a couple who had just vacated one of the booths, and stretched out, pulling food out of their packs and sharing. Their hands crisscrossed with a casual rhythm, passing dried fruit, croissants, and cream cheese as if they'd had hundreds of meals this way. While they ate, they watched sea-planes take off over their heads and the wakes of boats spread across the lake, neither of them feeling the need to talk. They had been silent for so long that when Sarah finally spoke up, Chuck nearly jumped.

"What's it like when you flash? Like when an ability comes to you, what's it feel like?"

In over two years with first one then another Intersect in his head he'd never had anyone ask him what it felt like. And here was Sarah looking at him with such open and honest curiosity, no other motives for the question in her eyes. He found himself ready to trip over himself trying to answer.

"Wow … huh … how does it feel? Honestly, I've never thought about how to explain it. I hadn't felt anything like it before I got the Intersect." He paused, thinking. "This is a weird way to describe it, and you're going to think it's cheesy, but it kinda reminds me of when Mom, Dad, Ellie, and me drove to Yosemite. It's actually one of the last trips we took as a family. It was the most boring drive ever; Dad was so focused on getting there we didn't make any side trips or do anything fun. I just read books the whole way …"

"Barf."

"Yeah, I don't know how I did it back then either. Now days I'd be car sick after a mile of that. Anyways, the point is, I didn't look out the window the whole trip except when we stopped for food, gas, or a motel. Then, out of the blue, Mom said, 'Chuck, Ellie, look outside'. I looked up and there was The Valley stretched out in front of me like an outdoor cathedral. I could see El Capitan, Bridal Veil, The Three Brothers, and Half Dome down at the end, all with a level of detail that seemed greater than reality. Even as a jaded little kid it took my breath away … now what was the point of this?"

"Your flashes."

"Right. Every time I flash on an ability it feels just like that. It's like I've been walking around with my head down and then all the sudden I look up and there's a whole new corner of the world with vast intricacies and possibilities that I'd never thought of. Languages, climbing, martial arts, music … every ability involves this whole new way of thinking or doing things that had never occurred to me."

"Wow. It's like that every time?"

"Pretty much."

"I had no idea."

"Yeah, it's kind of amazing. The world is so much bigger than I ever imagined, Sarah. It sounds like a cliché but it's really true. Like with music … that was a mind blower. I've always thought I was knowledgeable about music but it wasn't until I flashed on playing the guitar that I realized how little I knew. There were structures and relationships between melody and harmony … all sorts of things. It almost reminded me of software, the complexity and hierarchy of it all. I have a new respect for musicians."

Chuck felt like exploding, trying to find the right words but he knew words wouldn't do it justice. "Sarah, I wish I could show you. I wish you could see how incredible it is. And I wish I could hold onto it … that perspective. When I'm done with an ability it just slips away, like a really cool dream you can't remember the next day. I can remember what it felt like … some generalities here and there, but that's it. I'm rambling now aren't I?"

"No Chuck, not at all. It's really beautiful. It actually makes me feel kind of optimistic about life, you know, that there's so much out there I haven't experienced. Sometimes for me the world seems so small and stifling."

"What? You? Now how can you say that? You're an international woman of mystery, been everywhere and seen everything."

Chuck was grinning, trying to get a smile out of Sarah but she was looking inward. "Chuck, I've only seen the world the way a thief sees it, looking for what it can do for me."

"Oh, whoa, hold on, Sarah. You're not a thief."

"Actually, yeah I am. I'm essentially a criminal. That's who I am."

"Hey, you're letting the last couple of days mess with your head. You're a CIA agent not a criminal."

"And what is it that I do? I steal, con, seduce, kidnap. Just because it's for the government doesn't change the fact that that's what I do. I'm still lying, stealing, and kidnapping."

"But you're helping people when you do that."

"I suppose what I do saves lives in the long run, not that I'll ever know if that's true. I pretty much have to rely on someone else's word for it. Sometimes I wonder if I'm just doing damage control for what we screwed up somewhere else. Don't get me wrong, I love the work, I mean, the actual craft itself. The life on the other hand … I just wish I could see that I was helping somebody sometimes. I mean really helping them. God, I sound ridiculous"

"No, Sarah, not at all. You sound like a real person".

Sarah held Chuck's eyes for a moment. "If we ever make it back, not a word of this to anyone. They'd have me pulled in a heartbeat."

"Nerd's honor. Not a word. What got you thinking about all this?"

"I guess waiting for that agent … Manny … waiting for him to shoot me. It got me thinking about what would happen if I died. Honestly, there are so many things I want to say but it could get so complicated if I say them."

"I don't think I follow."

"I don't like talking because talking gets messy. Too many loose ends to worry about and too many things that need to be explained. But what if I died and no one ever knew anything about me? I mean, anything other than what's in a file. It would be like I just disappeared … poof. Actually, I bet there'd be a few people who would rest easier if I did just that."

"Who? Why?"

Sarah took a deep breath and held it. She looked inward again, seemed to make a decision, then blew it out, bitterness and resentment hardening her features.

"You absolutely can never repeat anything I'm about to say … even to me."

Chuck nodded, feeling a heady anticipation.

"You've never heard how I came into the CIA. It wasn't the way agents normally are recruited, which should be obvious, considering the number of felonies I committed growing up. It started with Graham. He had this slush fund, laundered from god knows what kind of op, and he used it for a little experiment, basically, to test the means of running operations with expendable operators. All of us were taken in because of our … special talents and because of how young we were. We all had criminal backgrounds so he didn't expect us to remain un-corrupted for very long, and you can't just let highly skilled criminals wander loose. We were the perfect candidates. They gave us minimal training and then just tossed us into high risk, highly illegal ops with cover "bona fides" **-** I know, it sounds like an oxymoron **-** pointing towards other intelligence agencies, never expecting us to survive more than the first or second op. I'm one of the few that survived those first assignments. You know they had me seduce a Russian agriculture official who was a former KGB case officer. Seriously, a case officer! You know how they say you don't bullshit a bullshitter? Well I did. You should have seen their faces when I came back alive … _with_ what they wanted."

Chuck felt like what he was hearing was way too classified for his ears but he was fascinated at how open Sarah was being. She had just told him more in the last minute than the entire time he'd known her. And now that it was coming out, it didn't seem like she wanted to stop.

"That's probably the reason I'm still alive. I'm good at what I do. There were a lot of people that wanted Graham's experiment to disappear but I think they found me too useful to make me disappear too. So I got sent to The Farm, became legitimate, and continued to be damn good. I could do all of it: infiltration, seduction, abduction, protection, foot or rolling surveillance, even some analysis; whatever they needed they could just plug me in. God, I'm bragging now; I hate that. But that's basically the reason I kept going with the training and the work, you know, because I was good at it. Isn't that kind of selfish?"

"I think that's normal, Sarah. Back when being a Buymoron wasn't just a cover, the only thing I got out of work was being the best of anyone in the Nerd Herd. If I'm going to do anything, I want to do it well."

Sarah's bitter expression softened to an almost smile.

"I know. That's one of the great things about you, Chuck."

Just then a little white mop on legs came running up to Sarah, smelling her hand and then licking her fingers. The owner came up a few seconds later.

"Sorry, he's kind of a licker."

"That's okay, he's a real sweetheart. What's his name?"

"Romeo. It's because he's got a bit of a humping problem."

"Cute. Is there a Juliette?"

"Oh, there's plenty of Juliettes: a shoe, any small dog he sees, his owner's foot when he's trying to sleep …"

Sarah laughed and the contrast of it against her previous mood made Chuck smile.

The owner smiled back at them and turned to leave.

"Come on, Romes. Let's leave these people alone."

Romeo resisted then went bounding after his owner looking for something else to lick, smell, or pee on. Chuck fished through his pack to find a handi-wipe and offered it to Sarah but she waved him off.

"Thanks, I'm fine. What were we talking about again?"

"You being a badass agent, I think."

"Ugh, that." Sarah's tone, which had brightened considerably with Romeo's appearance, went back to dark and bitter. "I guess Graham thought I was an asset to him. That's probably why he skipped me through all the psych profiles at The Farm. I thought I was such the perfect agent back then; it never occurred to me that he did it because I would have failed them. It takes a special mentality to be an agent in the field but that's not me. I just can't live like a shadow, not for the rest of my professional life, anyway. I used to think that I preferred it, living in the world but always being separate from it … I guess I still do sometimes. It's definitely makes things a lot simpler."

"But it's not enough, is it?"

Sarah gave Chuck a hard stare but it faded into resignation.

"No it's not. I don't know what it is. Sometimes I'm at a party, something social … lots of people around … but I still feel so completely empty. I can run through the script, be charming, talkative, whatever … it doesn't matter. I still feel like I'm not really there or maybe like nobody else is there and I'm the only one who's real. Then someone like your sister comes along. When she tells you she likes you she means it. There's no bullshit with her. I try to keep her at arms length but Ellie just can't help it. She just pulls you right in and then you can't go back to how things were." Sarah jerked her gaze skyward. "Jesus! This is why I never talk about anything, Chuck. First I'm bragging, now I'm whining."

Chuck was staring, trying to process everything Sarah had just said and how openly emotional she was being. He wanted to burn it all into his memory because he wasn't sure he'd ever see her like this again. The sudden silence was beginning to feel awkward though, so he filled it.

"Sarah, you're not whining. For one thing, this is Ellie we're talking about. I know exactly how she is. And for another, I've known you for a few years now and I've seen how much you want to have real friends. You hide it but you're not that good at it, at least not with me. Why do you have to be ashamed of it? You're human. Humans like to make connections and that's how they do it, by sharing stuff with each other like you just did."

Sarah glared at him. "Sharing with people doesn't usually involve disclosing classified information that could get both of us in serious trouble."

Chuck looked down at their two packs and then back at Sarah, pointedly running his hand through his now blonde hair and smiling his Chuck smile.

"We wouldn't want to get into any trouble, would we?"

Sarah's annoyed glare broke and grudgingly turned to a smile, then to laughter. Chuck joined her and they were soon hysterical, dissolving into a pile of giggles. After a minute Chuck sobered up, watching Sarah's slowly ebbing fits with complete adoration.

"I know I shouldn't laugh about our situation but that just makes it funnier."

"It does."

Sarah caught her breath, wiping tears out of her eyes. Chuck tried remembering ever having seen her in the middle of a giggle fit and realized he couldn't. He decided this was exactly what she needed, human connection.

"Sarah?"

"Yeah?"

"What you said … about being a shadow?"

"Mmm-hmm."

"You're not a shadow in _my_ life. I'm definitely a better person for having met you. I wouldn't trade a day of being your asset, or your fake boyfriend, or your partner … any of it. Not for anything."

Sarah looked at Chuck with an expression that bordered on so many emotions he couldn't read it. When she finally spoke, her voice was uneven.

"Maybe you're not oblivious after all. Chuck, knowing you these last few years has been one of the _only_ things that really meant something to me. Your … friendship has been one of the only things keeping …"

Sarah swallowed the rest of her sentence and stared furiously out at the lake. Her eyes became shiny with tears threatening to spill over. Chuck felt he'd missed something, then the oppressive weight of it hit him in the chest.

"Oh God. In Prague …"

A tiny flicker of Sarah's lower lip was the only betrayal that Chuck had hit on the sore point.

"Sarah, you have to believe me. I know I hurt you, but I had no idea the extent of what I did."

She whipped back to face him and he flinched at the anger there.

"How could you _not_ know? I was ready to become a fugitive for the rest of my life for you, Chuck. Do you think I would have done that on a whim? Do I seem like a person who does that? No! You were saving _me_, from _my_ life by running away with me … but then you had to go off and become an agent."

Sarah's sudden anger had caught him completely off guard and he sputtered in response.

"Yeah … well … how long do you think you'd have stayed with me if I was that guy who always had to stay in the car. Dutiful Chuck, always following orders but not really good for anything."

"Not good for anything? Chuck, how many times did you put yourself in the way of danger and you got the job done, intersect or not. We were a team, with or without it."

"We _were_ a team?"

"Well, what are we now that you're trying to do everything yourself. Like Shaw said, pretty soon you won't need me. And anyway, there wouldn't be anything left of you … of the Chuck I used to know."

"Sarah, I don't want to do it all myself. I don't want to be a stand-alone agent. I don't want to be an emotionless robot. You're amazing and the best thing that's ever happened to me. I'm not sure there's anything you can't do. The only reason I ever wanted to be an agent was just so I could be good enough to be part of your life."

The words sounded weak and melodramatic in Chuck's ears so he rushed on to explain.

"I just wanted …"

"Chuck, stop …"

Chuck's shoulders sagged. He literally felt deflated … defeated.

"… that's the nicest thing you've ever said to me …."

His head snapped up, defeat changing to hope in a heartbeat. Then Sarah's fist made a painful charlie horse in his shoulder

"… and one of the stupidest! That's why you did the training? That's why you've been trying to trade _everything_ that's good about you to be a better agent?"

"I guess … everything? Really?"

"Sometimes it seems like it. Anyway, what was all that talk about protecting your country and Ellie and Devon?"

"You heard all that?"

"Yup."

Chuck sighed deeply, feeling like those times in grade school when the teacher made him explain himself in front of the whole class.

"Well, I didn't really know how much I'd be protecting Ellie and Awesome, and the stuff about my country was kind of an afterthought. I just … I guess I just thought I needed to become someone that mattered, someone you'd have more in common with, like Bryce … and I thought I could be that guy."

"How can you fit so much brilliant and so much stupid in that same head. Don't you get it? I love _you_, Chuck, not some CIA agent … _you_!"

For a moment the Earth seemed to rotate too fast for Chuck. He was having difficulty believing he'd just heard those words but there they were hanging in the air, expectant. This wasn't a fantasy he'd imagined so many times since he's first met her. Here was the real Sarah, with all her dark past, her vulnerability, her brilliance, and beauty. He realized he was staring, his mouth open, saying nothing.

"Sarah … god … oh my god I love you too … more than I can think of words for. I've loved you since you laughed at my first joke. I think I've loved you so long, it's like a natural law, like gravity or Boltzman's constant or something. Or maybe like …"

"Chuck, hush!"

Sarah's smile was so radiant Chuck could see little else. She reached up and took off his faded cap, shaking her head at his ridiculous, spiky blond hair.

"Sometimes I love to listen to you ramble but not now."

Chuck realized how much he was aching to kiss Sarah and her words released him like a long-held breath. Their bodies and lips met and the pain and uncertainty of the last two days, of all the time since they'd met at the train station in Prague, was released into a narcotic flood of adrenaline and endorphins. Sarah's hand on the back of Chuck's neck pulled him down until he lost his balance falling into her, her body absorbing him, not letting go. Feeling her mix of lean strength and softness drove everything from Chuck's mind. Their location, the danger they were in, none of it mattered. This was going to happen.

Sarah's heart was swelling so that she felt she could hardly breath. She'd been looking for a way past her anger, for an excuse to forgive Chuck, and he'd broken the dam. Now all she could sense was the smell of his washed skin, the warm will of his lips, the prickles of his face, and the strength and tenderness in his hands, shoulders, and hips. Every particle of her knew what it wanted. Even the scold in the back of her head that spoke up during these moments, was, for once, completely silent. The giddy rush washed her reason away and she wrapped her legs around his waist, ready to let the tide take her, when…

"Ahem".


	9. Chapter 9

They sat bolt upright, two deer caught in the headlights. Chuck could feel the icy needles of adrenaline pricking his fingers, his heart hammering in his ears. He looked up to see a thirty-something couple passing them, laughing to themselves, the man shaking his head. Sarah's fighting readiness relaxed into panting relief.

"God, we must have looked like a couple of teenagers. This isn't exactly the time or place, is it?"

"Can I disagree?" Chuck's body was shaking.

"And what exactly do you think we can do … here."

Chuck took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. "Yeah, I know. You have no idea how much I want you, though."

The look of predatory longing on Sarah's face mirrored what he was feeling. Sarah broke the tension before she lost herself to warm, vigorous thoughts. "Okay. We need to move before we get distracted again."

"Before we get distracted? That's what you're going to call what just happened?"

"Alright, how about 'before we rip each others' clothes off and get arrested for public indecency'?"

"I'm not cool with the 'getting arrested' part but the rest I like." Another deep sigh. "Jesus, I know we can't do this now, I know it, but promise me this isn't just going to go away. Were not just going to pretend the whole conversation and … what followed … never happened?"

"Chuck, are you serious? There's no way what's between us is going away. I love you. I've loved you for a long time, much longer than you would probably guess … and now you know it. And you just found out a lot of things about me I'd never tell anyone but you. I don't know what I want for the rest of my life except that I know I want you … as my partner, as my lover …" A thrill ran up Sarah's spine and she shivered with it. "… and that second part can't happen soon enough. As soon as it's safe, you'll have to fight to keep me off of you and that's a fight you'll lose … although I wouldn't mind if you shaved. But Chuck, you've got to promise me something. Promise me you won't go running off whenever Beckman calls, or when you feel like you have to save the world all by yourself. If we're a team, then from now on we do it all together."

"Yes ... Sarah, yes. Absolutely. That is, if taking orders from Beckman is even a possibility ever again. But yes, I promise you a million times. I don't want anything more than just the two of us together, working together … making love together …"

"Stop, you. Not now." Sarah stood up but she wasn't sure if it was to keep him off of her or vice versa. "We have work to do. Aren't we supposed to be devising a way to make $5500?"

"Seriously? You're going to make me try to _think_ right now?"

"Come on, get up. Let's walk it off. We'll do the thinking while we walk."

"Can we wait a minute?"

"Why?"

"Umm … I just don't want to stand up quite yet."

"Oh, that." She let a giggle escape. "Just try imagining Ellie and Devon taking a romp in the …"

"Good god, Sarah!"

"Ooo, or even better, the point of view of that tattoo artist giving Jeff the tattoo on his …"

"Oh come on! All I needed was a minute, not a nightmare."

"Sorry, I'm in a hurry … and it's fun pestering you."

"If only my esteemed colleague knew how you used him. Anyways, I think I can stand up now, even if I'll never be able to close my eyes again."

They repacked the food and reluctantly returned to the path that circled the park. Strolling aimlessly, they took in the scene, with the families and couples sitting on the grass picnicking, and the people playing Frisbee and hacky sack, flying kites and walking their dogs. Everyone was here to take time off from their drudgery, their anxieties, and their responsibilities. This wasn't the place for thinking about stealing to survive and running from operatives. This was the place for taking a walk only for the pleasure of it.

Chuck felt Sarah's fingers intertwine with his and couldn't help imagining they'd gone somewhere their enemies couldn't follow. Floating in this blissful state, the flash seemed to Chuck to be more irritation than warning. His eyes tracked across the face of a man he'd never known, but the images tumbled out of his memory nonetheless. The relevant pieces of data informed him that the tall, muscular, aged fratboy type, standing on a grassy slope facing the water, was Wayne G. Runkle, a lawyer for at least two suspected drug kingpins in the Seattle and Tacoma area.

The man was speaking, though it appeared there was no one listening to him, since he had no phone headset and the closest person to him was a woman sitting on a small blanket 3 feet away, reading to herself. Though the guy had no relevance to Chuck, he was curious what a drug lawyer was doing at the park by himself, talking to no one. A moment later a second flash exploded through Chuck's cortex showing him the shapes of thousands of syllables on the lips of thousands of people, and suddenly the idea of lip reading seemed exceedingly simple. He looked back at the lawyer and found himself following his words, almost as if he could hear them.

" … have to meet here? I thought this was about the next deposit."

The woman on the blanket began speaking as soon as Wayne stopped, though Chuck wasn't at an angle where he could read her lips. Then Wayne was talking again.

"More disclosure? Yes, absolutely. You know I'm up for more involvement, but I don't want it getting around to my clients that I'm having chats with Feds at the park." Another pause while the woman spoke, then Wayne again. "You don't need to question my commitment, but you do need to realize I can't help with your money situation if my fucking clients decide they prefer me in the ground! I assumed you would have an interest in my safety." Pause. "Okay fine, but make it quick." Pause. "You're kidding, right? Spies are supposed to be punctual. So where is he? He's here already, isn't he, just watching? Is this some kind of test? I swear, my clients are less paranoid than you Ring people."

Sarah became alert as Chuck stopped dead with a sudden intake of breath.

"Chuck, what is it? Did you flash?"

"The Ring's here. The man standing up on the side of the hill, 1 o'clock, with the oxford … sleeves rolled up ... khakis …"

"Got him."

"… and the dark haired girl on the blanket next to him. They're not here for us, but there's at least one more of them nearby."

"Chuck, we can't assume that it's a coincidence that they're here. Although, if they wanted us, they did have the jump. They should've taken it."

"Exactly. I really don't think they know we're here."

"Well, in any case, if they spot us we're done; we need to find some cover. If we look like we're part of a group we'll stick out less. Maybe those four over there … the one guy with the guitar?"

"Yup. I see."

"We could still see what the two Ring agents are doing from where the group is sitting."

"Perfect, but can you lead me over? I want keep my eyes on this guy to see what he's saying."

"Are you reading his lips?"

"The intersect is."

"Wow ... okay, but don't stare too much. Remember, these people are trained agents."

Chuck raised his head as if he was watching the kite that was soaring, dipping, and spinning above the lawyer and the woman but kept his eyes trained on Wayne.

"... no one returned my calls last night?" Pause. "What kind of a situation? " Pause. "Wait, and we're meeting out in the open?" Pause. "And you're sure they're in Tacoma?"

Chuck realized they were just walking up to the four Sarah had pointed out and turned away from the conversation. There were two men and two women, youngish, maybe mid twenties to early thirties, beards on the men and peasant skirts on the women. Sarah waved to the group.

"Hi. We saw you playing over here and wondered if you'd mind if we sat and listened."

One of the women spoke up. "Absolutely. That's why we come out here. But no one just sits and listens with us, everyone has to perform too."

Chuck felt Sarah's hand grip his in alarm.

"Don't worry. If you don't know any songs, James ...", she pointed at the guy with the guitar, "... can teach you something. By the way, I'm Azelea, that's Fern, that's Wood ... and James, of course."

Chuck thought briefly of saying something to the effect of one of these things not being like the others, but kept it to himself. Azelea was looking at them questioningly.

Sarah spoke up as they sat down. "Oh, sorry. Jessica and Matt. We're just visiting from ... around."

"Making the road your home, huh? Sounds like you fit right in with us. Do either of you play anything?"

Chuck had turned his eyes back to the conversation up the slope, and noticed he could now read the lips of the Ring agent as well as Wayne. He answered Azelea's question without thinking.

"Yeah, I've played the guitar off and on."

James spoke up. "Perfect! Then you have to play something for us."

James handed the guitar to Chuck who reluctantly took it, frustrated at his response. He had just seen a tall, slender, dark skinned man walk up to the right of Wayne, lay out a towel, and sit down. The newcomer's face sent Chuck into another flash telling him the man was Darnell Raymond, a former CIA intelligence officer, fired because of unprofessional conduct, which somehow the Intersect was not privy to. Chuck knew he needed to read this conversation, but to remain in place where he could watch it he needed to play the guitar as well. Chuck had enough difficulty getting the Intersect to work consistently so he had significant worries about forcing it to give him two abilities simultaneously.

_Come on Intersect, come on brain. Let's see what you got._

Keeping his eyes on the three up the hill, he put his fingers on the fret board, grabbed the pick James offered, and hoped. The flash seemed much less intense than usual, more remote, and as his hands responded and began picking the introductory chords to 'Going to California', he realized the rest of the world had faded into the background as well. He was only aware of the motions of his hands and the conversation on the hill. It was a precarious, brain splitting balance, keeping the two abilities functioning, but he found the concentration and deep breathing that it required, to be almost Zen. He followed along as the lawyer spoke to the newcomer.

"I have to say, Mr. Raymond, though this is unexpected I'm very interested to increase my involvement with your organization. Your operation is much more lucrative than that of my usual clients. Still, I'm curious what more I can do for you, since I don't imagine you have need of my skills as a defense lawyer."

"No Mr. Runkle, our interest is in the revenue your clients generate and the trust they put in you as a financial adviser. Our situation has changed, as we now need a source of funds, not just a means to launder them."

"You want me to steal from my clients? Do you want me dead? And I was under the impression that your organization was well funded. You're making me doubt my instincts about its competence."

"Your instincts are well grounded, have no worry about that. The only thing that has changed is that a new ... independent franchise ... has been created, which requires start-up money."

"Your rogue organization has spawned its own rogue operation? In my experience, when this sort of thing goes on in my clients' businesses, it usually ends with a lot of work for homicide detectives. I want no part of that."

"Our aim is only furthering the interests of the Ring, not our own. Also, the Ring is much more nebulous than your clients' organizations, with independently functioning cells, so I think there is much less danger in what we are doing. My problem is that our ... management ... has a long-term strategy of slow infiltration, trying to remain as invisible as possible. A very effective strategy, in fact, until an enemy discovers it. That is precisely what has occurred, however management doesn't see that enemy as a threat and has no intentions of going a new direction. The intent of our independent operation is only to speed up the pace of achieving the same goals the Ring has always pursued and to eliminate the new threat."

"I see. Actually I don't, at all. If you want deeper involvement from me, you're going to have to be much less vague. Since I doubt that you're going to disclose anything out in the open like this, I think this meeting is over."

"To the contrary, full disclosure is exactly what I intended for this meeting. If you choose, you will be a partner in this new franchise. You fit a profile that I require and there's no way, if you are going to do what is needed, for you to have a limited involvement. The work we will do will change the power structure in this country and eventually the world. This is all in service of the Ring, of course, but if we succeed we will be at the table when those power swaps happen."

Even from a distance Chuck could see the palpable lust on Wayne's face. He also was vaguely aware of James asking for another song. His fingers began strumming the opening to 'Magic Bus' and then Chuck tuned the music out again.

"You should understand though, Mr. Runkle, if you enter this partnership there is only one way to leave it. I'm sure I don't need to explain what that means. And the security of the information we discuss here, anything related to our business, is of more importance than your life. We are well aware of your discretion, have tested you several times though you did not know it, but we'll require you to do additional training on information security. Also, this means I disclose nothing more until you accept this offer of partnership. By accepting it, you are accepting these conditions."

Wayne nodded, but the look on his face had become far less affirmative. "It seems to me that what you require is something that's going to get me killed. My clients normally take a dim view of investments they can't put their hands on, but after this Bernie Madoff thing ... let's just say these guys would give the IRS a run for its money."

"You need only deceive your clients no more than a quarter before we become self sufficient. At that time you'll be able to show them a return on their investments. Until that time you'll have to rely on your talents at financial deception, though we will provide you with security personnel."

Wayne nodded again.

"Do I take that as a yes? I need to hear you say it. This is a life commitment."

"Yes. Yes, I accept. So are you going to explain why you wanted to meet here?"

"Mr. Runkle, I want to impress upon you the consequences if the Ring fails to achieve its goals. I want you to consider a nightmare scenario with me. Imagine these people you see here at the park having been programmed with the faces of various terrorists and criminals, or in your case, people who associate with them. Imagine a certain percentage of them being compelled to inform on you to the police, the FBI, or the DEA using cell phone apps; somewhat like Twitter for informants. Not everyone would be compelled, mind you, since no one would be able to keep that a secret, but a large enough percentage to make it nearly impossible to evade scrutiny. Imagine people, wherever you go, reporting on your location, your activities, and those you meet with. Is that a world you want to live in? Now imagine if you weren't even a criminal by traditional standards, just an enemy of the ruling elite. I'm sure you can see where that would be headed."

"You know, there's a guy that hangs around on the sidewalk outside my building. He's told me all about the top secret nuclear missile silo hidden in the Columbia Center and about how supermarket scanners introduce mind-controlling substances into the food you buy. You two might have quite a bit to talk about."

"I understand your skepticism, but have no doubt Mr. Runkle, the technology to imprint images in peoples' minds is here now, and eventually will extend to influencing their thoughts and activities. I expected you wouldn't believe it so Emily here is going to give you a demonstration."

The woman on the blanket removed her sunglasses and handed them to Wayne. Wayne looked at them skeptically then handed them back.

"Thank you but I prefer my mind unaltered. I'll take your word for it. I'm guessing that this is still in development?"

"Yes, what we have at the moment can only imprint a tiny amount of data safely, about 2 megabytes, but we believe the CIA has optimized the technology as far as it can go, at least with respect to the amount that can be imprinted. As for the potential for using the technology to influence thoughts and behaviors, the Obama administration is attempting to hold back the flood, fearing the corruption it could bring. However, we've recently discovered another small rogue group within the CIA that feels differently. They're not affiliated with the Ring in any way **-** in fact they are the aforementioned enemy **-** but they believe this technology would be very useful in allowing, or I should say, forcing the citizens to be the eyes and ears of law enforcement and anti-terrorism agencies. Of course these oh-so-self-righteous 'knights of the republic' see no need to pass up the opportunity to use it for influencing voting and consumer choices, as well ... to the benefit of connected politicians and corporations."

"How wonderfully fascist of them."

"Well, let's not put any labels on it. Minus the law enforcement aspect, we have similar aims. The problem is that the only way to wield this technology, once it has been realized, is to not only be the ones with access to it, but in fact, to be the only ones who even know it exists. That is one of the concerns of our new franchise, the elimination of those groups that are aware of the potential for this technology, particularly the rogue CIA group I mentioned before. That actually brings me to our current difficulty. The group in question, led by a CIA special agent, Daniel Shaw ..."

Chuck's careful balancing act crumbled. His hands faltered on the guitar but then picked up again as his ability to read lips evaporated.

_Shaw? Another corrupt agent? Sonofabitch, that slick bastard has been using us all along. _

With the loss of his lip-reading ability his senses returned, giving him a second shock. He heard the sweet, bell-like tone of a young woman singing the melody to "Lady of The Island", as he played, and realized that the voice belonged to the ersatz brunette next to him. Though the earlier divulgence of personal and classified information from the normally stoic agent had been a surprise, the incongruous beauty of her earnest, innocent voice against her lethal nature was a revelation.

_Sarah can sing. How do I not know this? _

This was too much for Chuck. He wanted to take in everything about this woman who'd just professed her love to him but he needed to find out about Shaw and the plots the two were discussing up the slope, as well as if Beckman was involved.

_Same old conflict and same old resolution, business first and pleasure later_.

He saw that Wayne was speaking and concentrated on the movement of his lips. Once again, with no hesitation, the flash came, the world receded, and he was reading the conversation.

"... does the son of one of the lead researchers become an agent working for this Shaw guy? Seems like quite a coincidence to me."

"One possibility we've considered is that Steven Bartowski is actually the brains behind Shaw's operation. Nepotism wouldn't be completely out of the question, especially as they seem to be keeping the operation small. A second possibility is a bit more complicated but we're looking into it. You see, the image encoding technology was originally developed by the CIA as a means of imprinting intelligence information into agents. The Ring first became aware of this through another organization of rogue agents **-** yes another one **-** which we eventually absorbed into our own. Fulcrum **-** that's the name of the organization **-** formed after the discovery that the CIA had this technology and its mission became trying to reverse engineer it. The difficulty was, when they initially tried the imprint on subjects, well ... most had a bad reaction to it. The CIA researchers must have had this same problem, at least early on, so one would wonder how they even considered that the imprinting was a possibility in the first place. It turns out that only certain individuals with a particular brain architecture can receive imprints of large amounts of information without this deleterious reaction. We have evidence to suggest that Steven Bartowski is one of these individuals and his imprinting of himself was one of the necessary discoveries leading to the technology. It also appears that this peculiar brain architecture is congenital so ..."

"You think his son has it as well?"

"We consider it a possibility."

"And you think he may have this imprint?"

"They call it the Intersect, after the name of the encoded database, but yes, we think he may have it. In fact he may have an updated version of it, which gives him access to physical abilities as well."

"Physical abilities? This is insane. Your fugitive doesn't sound so helpless."

"Mr. Runkle, assuming he even has the Intersect, he's still without the support of his team, except for the agent who he was traveling with. We've captured the other member of his team and we know Shaw is locked down in a safe house in Burbank. Mr. Bartowski appears to be completely cut off, as he has not attempted to communicate with either Shaw or Shaw's superior in Washington, Diane Beckman. In addition, it appears that none of the members of Shaw's team in Burbank are aware of the other part of his operation, the illegal one. They've got no one. These people are running, not hunting."

"Still, I'm not sure it's the best idea, having this meeting out in the open. You never answered my question, why we're having this meeting here."

"Actually, you're here for a demonstration, to give you an idea of the cost of betraying our trust. One of our moles in the CIA who has been passing us information about the personnel involved in the Intersect Project, recently had a change of heart regarding her loyalty to us. She attempted to pass a message to one of her superiors in the Seattle field office but fortunately we were able to intercept that message. Of course she's a security liability now, which must be eliminated. She recently purchased a small ocean worthy yacht with the compensation she received from us, likely in combination with savings, and coincidentally enough decided now was a good time to take it for a trip. In the spirit of the recent Fourth of July, we thought it appropriate to send her off with a bang. Do you see that cruiser, the one with the black stripe, just heading towards the shipping canal? Why don't you do the honors?"

Darnell handed Wayne what appeared to be a cell phone. Wayne took it with hesitation, his eyes wide.

"I understand your reluctance Mr. Runkle. I'm sure you thought your involvement would only require your skills at moving money, however, our new operation is a small one and will entail some multitasking. You are capable of multitasking? I'd like to see that you have the personality traits to do what will be required. I also see this as a way to cement your commitment to us. Quickly now, before she reaches the houseboats under the bridge. Just press the send button."

Wayne took one more look at the cell phone, then back out to the lake. A flash of light reflected off his sunglasses and he visibly flinched. A moment later Chuck was thrown out of his reverie as the shock wave thundered through him.

His awareness of the world returned to a moment of silence followed by the chaotic sound of a shocked crowd. Sarah was staring at him, her eyes demanding that he fill her in but Chuck didn't know where to start. Looking around him he could see that the group they had been sitting with were now standing, gaping at what he assumed was a cloud of smoke. Sarah tugged on his arm, silently insistent. He looked back up the hill to see that Darnell and Emily had both stood up and were folding up their towels, preparing to leave. Chuck quickly handed the guitar back to James.

"Sorry man, but I don't think it's safe here. We gotta go."

"I know. What the fuck? It's like a war zone. Hey man, you two sound great, by the way. We're here every Sunday, you should come back."

"We'll see."

He grabbed Sarah by the arm and pulled her in the direction of the parking lot.

"Chuck! Tell me what's going on. Did they ..." she nodded up the hill "... have something to do with that explosion?"

"Yes, and I don't think we need to concern ourselves with Carole Takai anymore. I'm pretty sure she was on that boat ... the one that blew up."

"Then those people might be part of the cell ..."

"The one Shaw wanted us to find ... yup. Sarah, there's something I need to tell ... Jesus, I don't even know where to start."

"How about, why you can't play a single song from after 1975. You're lucky my Dad used to play that stuff in the car all the time."

"So did mine. How do you think they got into my head? Look, Sarah, could you give me a few more seconds?"

Chuck turned back to the three on the hill. Darnell was talking and Chuck began lip reading almost instantaneously, the flash seeming like a formality.

"... do the next transaction in cash rather than a deposit?"

"Cash would actually require me to show up at the bank. I don't want my face associated with a withdrawal of $10,000."

"I would assume you could do multiple withdrawals to decrease the profile."

"Yes but I still shouldn't show up at the bank. That links the account to my face."

"Then I'll send you Nick and Jeremy, two associate members of the franchise. All they'll need is a number?"

"A few numbers and some security information but, yes, no IDs necessary. This bank has been helpful in skirting DHS requirements. How will I know them?"

"They'll tell you ... Bishop sent them to pick up the groceries."

"Code phrases? Right, you did mention the importance of security."

Darnell looked at Emily and who rolled her eyes. "Good bye Mr. Runkle."

"Is that it?"

"I have a few more personnel acquisitions to make before we get started. Just sit tight, keep quiet, and don't go on any vacations."

"Right. Should I be reading up on anything? Training?"

"We'll call you."

Darnell and Emily turned and began walking over the summit of the hill toward the parking lot, ignoring the path. Wayne watched them leave and then stared out at the column of smoke still rising from the shipping canal. Chuck watched him, a smile beginning to turn up the corners of his mouth.

"Sarah. I have an idea."


	10. Chapter 10

_Runk, you are in over your head. What the hell are you doing? You just killed some woman you never met. Weird though. I thought it would be harder. Probably would have been a little different if I looked her in the face first. I wonder what Mr. Raymond meant by multitasking. More killing, probably. Wonder what that'll be like._

Wayne Runkle's mind was racing. Despite training as a Ranger in his younger years, he'd washed out before finishing and had never seen combat, as a Ranger or otherwise. He'd certainly never killed anyone, and since becoming the type of lawyer he was, he'd always managed to keep the violent elements of his clients' enterprises far away from himself and his practice. He was curious how he would react to the demands of this new partnership.

The one thing that bothered him though, was that he'd always managed to come out on top when making deals but it appeared this time he was the one with all his cards showing and Mr. Raymond was the one who was holding out.

_Shouldn't have agreed to anything without seeing the details. What kind of lawyer am I? But what if he's telling the truth? What if I can be at the table when the big decisions are made? If I'm smart I can keep from getting cut out. And I am smart. I've made it this far, haven't I?_

Running through all of his successes, in court and out, Wayne puffed up his confidence until his doubts were forgotten. He scanned the park, reveling in the looks of shock and fear still hanging on the faces he saw. He felt powerful, being the only one left in the park who knew it was him that had caused the explosion. He wondered if it would feel the same, when the time came, being one of the few who knew what was behind the sudden changes in political and economic power across the globe. He filled his lungs with air that had a tinge of oily smoke and felt himself to be invincible.

His trepidation forgotten, he turned on the dwindling pillar of smoke and headed back towards the parking lot, hearing sirens approach. His unease returned swiftly when he noticed a pair of strangers following him as he neared his deep blue C63 AMG. He turned on his heel, straightening to his full height, depending on his imposing physical frame as he had so many times before.

"May I help you?"

There were two of them, a lithe brunette beauty, purple shirt and tight black pants, and a lanky, scruffy, bleached-blonde punk in jeans and a T-shirt. The punk spoke first.

"Hello Mr. Runkle. I'm Jeremy. This is Nick. Bishop sent us to help with the groceries."

"Wow. I didn't expect you to contact me so quickly."

"Mr. Raymond rarely shows up to a meeting alone. Our shop is a collaborative one, as you will see."

"I'm assuming Nick is short for Nichole … Nicolette?"

He received only a look of steel through what appeared to be cheap sunglasses.

"Sorry, none of my business."

"It's just Nick. Her father wanted a boy."

"Ah … yes. Sorry. So, do I give you the information you need here or …"

"Mr. Raymond thought it prudent to give the FBI something to chew on with the little "accident" in the lake. He had us leave our car, complete with bomb residue in the trunk, here in the parking lot for them to find later. It's free of prints, DNA evidence, or registration to anyone involved so it'll be another puzzle piece that won't fit anywhere. That does, however, require we find another ride to the bank. We planned on catching the bus but it would be so much easier …"

"Of course, of course. No problem. Happy to help."

"Excellent. Well, no time to waste."

As he pulled out onto Northlake, Wayne began to consider whether he was truly happy to help. He was a partner now after all, not an underling. Was playing chauffer to two who seemed to be junior in status, something a full partner would do?

But Nick had taken the front seat, and her initial steely stare had been replaced by one of open appraisal. She seemed to have a knowledge of, even a weakness for cars, and he could swear she purred while she compared the performance of his AMG's V8 with her favorite, the 911 GT3. He openly flirted with her and she pointed out the lack of a ring on the ring finger of his left hand. Several times she put her hand on his forearm, then his bicep, and he imagined other places were he'd like that hand to go.

The drive was over too quickly and he nearly drove past the bank in a daze, wondering what the policy was on fraternizing within the organization. As Nick slid out of the seat and stood up Wayne couldn't help devouring with his eyes what was right in front of him. He called her name and she poked her head back in giving him a view down the V of her shirt.

"Now don't forget. Only talk to Don, since he's the only one that deals with the … special accounts. And _do not_ mention any names, especially mine. Don doesn't need to know them and they won't get you any more access than what the numbers and the security information will get you."

"Will do. It was nice meeting you, Mr. Wayne Runkle. I hope we get the chance to … work … together soon."

She was gone with a wink and a suggestive look.

"Yes. Sooner than later, sweetheart … sooner than later"

He watched her walk away with her partner and decided he didn't care what the policy on fraternization was. This was a woman who needed the complete Wayne Runkle treatment. He started the car, ready to pull away when he realized he'd forgotten to ask how he was supposed to take his cut from this payment. The two agents had already entered the bank and he didn't want to be caught on security camera talking to them. Then he remembered that his previous Ring contact had given him a number to call if he had any logistical problems with the money. Wayne pulled his phone from his jacket pocket.

* * *

Chuck was waiting for Sarah across the street from the bank, letting her do her thing while he used the Intersect as lookout. He was feeling the hubris that only one can when a plan has worked out exactly as expected. Plus, the new change of clothes helped. He wondered at how many hills and valleys his mood had passed through in a single day, almost a microcosm of his life the last three years. But now, knowing that the girl he loved for so long, loved him back and was across the street finishing a $10K, spur of the moment plan that he himself had devised, his optimism knew no bounds. It wasn't surprising, then, that it took him nearly a full three minutes to notice the deep blue Mercedes parked across the street, a block and a half away.

_Is that Wayne's car? _

Chuck began walking in the direction of the car to see if he could recognize the driver, but before he made it more than a couple of steps, it pulled away from the curb, making a squealing u-turn mid block, heading the opposite direction.

_Damn it! Why can't everything just work out for once?_

He scanned both directions on 8th and saw nothing to activate the Intersect. Looking west on Olive, however, he saw a Maroon Escalade weaving through traffic and his burgeoning tactical instincts didn't like the looks of it. He checked back across the street and saw Sarah's purple shirt through the glass in the bank's foyer.

She emerged, her eyes immediately finding him, and Chuck pointed in the direction of the approaching Escalade. Sarah's body language told him she saw it and was not interested in sticking around to confirm the threat. She quickly retrieved her Beretta from under the moldy shirt she'd hid it under before going into the bank. Chuck saw she was talking to him and he flashed almost instantaneously, reading her lips.

"… to split up. Meet me at 4th Avenue and Holgate …" she mouthed this in an exaggerated way "… southeast of the stadiums. Look for Sinjin's Body Shop and ask for Blue. Now get out of here quickly before their backup get's here. I love you, Chuck. Do you understand?"

Chuck gave her a thumbs up and then mouthed 'I love you' in return, though he had no idea if she saw it. Sarah turned and began sprinting up 8th, away from Chuck and the Escalade, crossing olive and Howell at the light. Chuck turned the opposite direction, running as fast as his adrenaline would allow.

_Please be okay, Sarah. _

* * *

Sarah looked over her shoulder to see the Escalade stop at the corner of 8th and Olive. Three men jumped out and ran across the street in pursuit of her, accompanied by the blaring of horns from the rush hour traffic. The Escalade then turned the other direction, heading the wrong way down 8th.

_Leave him alone, assholes! Come after me, damn it! Please be okay, Chuck. _

The Scold was screaming in Sarah's head at full volume.

_You blew it Walker. You blew it. Who'd that Escalade go after? Not you. They want Chuck. All their backup is probably going after him. They must have found out he's the Intersect. He doesn't stand a chance alone. Splitting up is the worst thing you could have done! _

She knew it was true but she had to return her focus to self-preservation. Stabbing pains were running through her ankle making her realize she'd never outrun the three thugs behind her. The building on her right gave way to an open bus yard which was part of a Greyhound bus depot. Several buses were parked on the left and there was a line of cars on the right side leading to an open parking lot which took up the corner of Howell and 9th.

_Lot of cover here. If I can't outrun them I can at least slow them down. _

She turned the corner but not before pulling the Beretta and making sure the three down the block saw her. They slowed their pursuit, hands diving under their jackets to find the assurance of their own weapons.

_Now the three of you have to wonder how much time I spent at the firing range. Might slow you down a little. _

Her plan was to head down the line of cars, making a right on the other side of the building and heading back in the direction she'd come. If they advanced with tactical caution, she might be able to make it around before they caught up with her. As she reached the opposite corner she turned around and saw they hadn't yet come around the building.

_Worried, boys? _

She headed back towards Howell, limping down the alley next to the parking lot, looking for anything that might give her an advantage. She saw her salvation down at the end of the block, a boyish looking hipster dismounting a red Honda scooter. She took off in the girl's direction, hope overcoming the pain in her ankle.

_Please let me have this. _

Twenty feet from her objective she heard the sound of heavy, running footsteps rounding the back of the utility truck she was just passing. She stopped before colliding headlong into the tall menace of one of her pursuers. Their eyes locked, both equally surprised. Reflexes activated, hands on weapons, but Sarah's 9mm was already drawn and she had him targeted before he could draw his own.

"Freeze! Toss the gun"

To her surprise, he did just that.

"Down on your knees and hands on your head."

The man quickly obeyed.

_Too easy. The other two must be coming up behind? Damn it, I don't have time for this._

Like a snapping bullwhip, Sarah's foot arched out and around, heel connecting with the agent's occipital bone, dropping him like he'd been unplugged. She turned to the girl with the scooter, now gaping at Sarah, and summoned the depth of her sense of authority.

"Federal agent! I need to commandeer your scooter."

Whether it was her voice, the 9mm in her hand, or the way she'd rendered a man unconscious with one kick, the woman backed away from the scooter, dropping the keys without a word. Sarah closed the distance to the bike as the woman ran, grabbed the keys and hopped on the scooter, wishing she had a helmet. Hearing the sound of more running footsteps, she started the engine and twisted the throttle, sending her over the sidewalk onto Howell. The sound of gunshots chased her as she weaved northeast between cars.

_Seriously? Firing into traffic at rush hour? Idiots! They must be desperate. God, I hope they don't hit anyone._

The gunshots stopped as she pulled out of range, and she caught her breath, allowing herself a moment to regroup. Her mind switching quickly to finding and helping Chuck, she oriented herself and recalled the maps she had memorized back in Burbank.

_Okay, they couldn't have gone too far before hitting the convention center. Which way would Chuck have gone? _

It was only due to her concentration and her fear for Chuck that she was completely unprepared for the submachine gun that emerged from the window of a dark SUV running the light in front of her.


	11. Chapter 11

Chuck heard the roar of the Escalade's engine behind him and knew he only had a few seconds to think of something. He tried to remember what Sarah had told him about evasion during a foot chase and realized he needed to be taking better notes. They were nearly on top of him when his instincts took over and he broke left into the parking lot. At the same time the Intersect activated and he pulled the gun Sarah had acquired the day before at the transit center. Flicking the safety, he looked over his shoulder and fired several shots at the Escalade's tires, the Intersect compensating for the bounce of his stride. The big SUV's two front tires blew out just as it jumped the curb into the parking lot, causing it to lose control in a shower of sparks and ram into a parked car.

Chuck didn't wait to see if anyone exited the vehicle, instead sprinting across the parking lot to reach the next street over. He was desperately hoping to see a taxi without a fare, since the idea of hoofing it through downtown and dodging Ring agents didn't appeal to him. He'd left his pack with all his spare clothes, anything he could use for disguise, back at Gasworks, and searching for a clothing store was not an option.

He reached 9th just in time to hear a heavy racing engine coming down the block. As he turned he saw a dark behemoth with smoky windows swerving directly towards the place where he was standing. The Intersect took over again and, like a spectator, he watched himself turn, race towards the car behind him, and leap onto its hood, then over its roof. A small impact sent him off the car's trunk into a tuck and roll on the pavement, causing him to drop the 9mm in the process.

_Were they trying to run me over? Christ, whatever happened to tasers? _

Chuck was about to retrieve his weapon when the passenger door of the SUV opened and a tall sandy-haired agent with a machine pistol emerged.

"Don't move or you're dead!"

"Not moving! Completely still! No shooting needed, please. Not like it matters though. You're going to kill me, right?"

"We'll see. On your knees!"

The Intersect was flashing several options through Chuck's head but they all seemed like hail marys. At the same time, he knew his options would dwindle once he was in the Ring's custody, if they even bothered with that.

Casey's voice bellowed in his head. _Make a move, idiot!_

Just as the agent advanced to within a few steps of Chuck, the popping of pistol fire erupted a few blocks away, followed by screeching tires, car horns, more gun-fire, and a scream. The blonde agent turned his head instinctively giving the Intersect the opening it needed. Chuck's hand had closed on a pile of loose sand and gravel used to fill the pothole he was kneeling on. He threw it into the agents eyes as he turned back, scoring a direct hit, then dodged sideways as the man fired wildly in his direction. Chuck closed on the struggling agent, controlling the hand with the spraying gun and butting his head into the bridge of the man's nose. The blonde's hands flew up to his face, releasing the machine pistol and opening him to a kick to the side of his head from Chuck.

As the man went down, Chuck ran for the passenger door of the SUV, a black Chevy Suburban with smoky windows, which now appeared to be driverless. He turned around in time to see a sawed-off pump-action being leveled at his head. His hand went to the barrel and diverted it a moment before it fired, the Intersect ignoring the burning pain. As the driver charged him, Chuck released the shotgun, inverting his body so that, while his head swung down towards his knee, his foot arched up and around, slamming into the back of the man's thick head. The driver wavered on his feet, shotgun pointed at the ground, and Chuck relieved him of his consciousness with a second blow.

Chuck's heart was racing, but the Intersect would not relinquish his reflexes. He turned at the sound of footsteps and saw the agents from the other SUV crossing the parking lot. He brought the machine pistol to bear and the agents began firing at him. Chuck sent them for cover with several well aimed rounds and then dove across the passenger's seat of the Suburban, sliding to the drivers side. The engine was still running so he reversed, unlocking the big SUV's bumper from the car it had run into, then shifted to drive and gunned the engine, slamming the passenger door closed. He raced down 9th Avenue towards the convention center, bullets plunk-plunking into the vehicle's body.

The sound of approaching sirens told him he needed to exit the field of action quickly. He didn't imagine the Ring would find it difficult eliminating him if he ended up in police custody. Especially not now that they seemed so desperate to kill him. He made a left turn on Pike St. and then a quick right, just after crossing over I-5. He slipped down the quiet street, fighting his adrenaline to control his speed, his reflexes relinquished by the Intersect.

He realized he needed to be on the other side of the freeway and further south to reach the rendezvous point, based on his basic knowledge of the city layout from the pre-mission briefing. He worked his way southeast, mainly on side streets, until he reached the International District and crossed under the freeway heading west on King Street. The tranquility of the drive through the quiet side streets under the early evening sun, juxtaposed with his racing heart and the edginess of his adrenaline-high created a paranoia which threatened to doom his reasoning.

_Quit it, Bartowski. You made it. You got away. They don't know where you're going and they don't where … oh … shit!_

Chuck slammed the brakes and jumped out of the Suburban, ducking down to look along the undercarriage. Just inside the rear bumper to the left of the midline he found a black box bolted to the chassis, which didn't appear to serve any purpose.

_Tracker! Crap, crap, crap! _

He looked up and down the street, not seeing any approaching dangers, but he knew more SUV death squads couldn't be too far away. A rhythmic squeak drew his eyes to the sidewalk where a young man was sedately pedaling an old one-speed.

"Excuse me."

The boy turned then froze, his eyes on the gun Chuck had brought out of the SUV.

"Can I offer you $400 dollars for your bike …" He noticed the oversized hoody the kid was wearing. "… and your hoody."

Uhh … I'm just going home, man. I don't have any money or drugs."

"No … look … I don't need money and I don't need drugs, I just need a bike and a hoody. How about $600? That's all I got."

Chuck began counting the bills out from his money roll. The kid made no move, keeping his eyes on the hand with the machine pistol. The sound of more familiar large engines fueled Chuck's desperation. About to panic, he noticed the reason for the kid's reticence and put the gun behind his back.

"Oh sorry, this isn't for you. This is for the really bad assholes that are coming for me and will kill me if you don't let me buy your bike!

"You're really gonna give me $600 for my bike and jacket?"

"Yup."

"Fuckit. Take 'em both."

The boy dropped the bike and took off his sweatshirt, backing away as Chuck approached. Chuck tossed the cash on the curb, then pulled on the hoody while checking the safety on the gun and stuffing it awkwardly in his waistband. He mounted the bike, which was small enough that he had to stand up to pedal, heading south, away from the Suburban as quickly as possible. At the end of the block he listened as several large vehicles stopped down the street behind him, doors slamming. As casually as he could manage, he turned the corner and prayed. He counted out the seconds, 10 ... 20 ... 30 but still didn't hear the rhinoceros bellow of the SUVs.

Reaching 6th he found a more populated street and, though he was able to blend with the pedestrians, he was able to take little comfort. The sound of each engine coming up behind him was like death and his heart remained in his throat. Despite his fear, all of the cars he saw belonged to the scene, offering no menace or threat of violence, and he reached Holgate with no incident. Turning west towards 4th, his mind returned to Sarah.

_Is she going to be there?_

The last he'd seen of Sarah, she was being chased down the street by three agents. Chuck had watched her take on multiple assailants before but usually in tight quarters where she could use her spectacular hand-to-hand skills. A shoot out, with one against three in the middle of downtown, was not good odds.

_God, why did we have to split up? She's always trying to draw the enemy away from me. She's not invincible. How many times can she do that before it kills her? _

He saw the corner of 4th approaching and a sight that made his heart leap.

_She's here! _

All Chuck's apprehension was relieved in a single glance. He crossed against the light, not wanting to wait any longer, nearly getting himself run over by a Ford Focus with blaring horn. Sarah was sitting on the sidewalk in the shadow of Sinjin's Body Shop, folded up against the wall. They both had made it and they were going to get away. He had no idea where they were headed and how they would get by, but it was good enough that they would do it together. As he approached, Sarah smiled a relieved, weary, sad smile. She looked so small, crumpled on the ground like she was and suddenly, something didn't seem right to him.

"I'm so glad you're here, Chuck. I shouldn't have made us split up. I came back for you but I couldn't find you and then I started getting so dizzy. The only thing I could think of was to come here and wait for you. I'm so sorry, Chuck."

"It's okay, we're here now. Why are you sorry … why are you dizzy?"

Chuck was standing right in front of Sarah now but she didn't get up. He noticed that her left hand, which he had assumed was just resting on her left leg, had dark congealed blood between the fingers and her black pants had a subtle sheen of wetness.

"Sarah?"

"I'm not going to make it without getting to the hospital. I'm so sorry, Chuck. We were so close. I really wanted to be with you, you have to believe me. I'm sorry it didn't work out. Let me make the introduction with Blue then you need to call an ambulance for me. Chuck … you're going to have to leave me behind. They'll find you if you come with me."

"No! Absolutely not."

"They don't want me, Chuck. They just want you. I can't let them take you."

"They want _both_ of us … dead. They tried to kill me too, Sarah. I found something out about them … about the Ring. I know their endgame. Killing us is probably one of their highest priorities because of that. They'd never let you leave that hospital alive but I'm not letting you die alone. It's like you said, we're a team. We do everything together. If that means dying together then so be it, but I'm not leaving your side."

Tears attempted to spill from Sarah's eyes, but her body couldn't manage enough moisture.

"You're being too stubborn. If you know what the Ring's objectives are, Beckman needs to know."

"Fine, I'll send a message to Beckman, but I'm not leaving you."

Sarah sighed, just a weak exhalation. "So selfish … no discipline … but I'm glad … want to be with you … I don't want to be alone."

Sarah swooned threatening to fall sideways.

"Chuck … ambulance."

Angry at himself that he hadn't called sooner, Chuck was about to go inside and find a phone when he heard an engine gunning and saw a dark blue Crown Vic approaching rapidly down Holgate. For half a second, his mind thought, "Casey", but he knew better.

_Crap. How'd they find us? What'd I do wrong? _

He glanced at the stop-light. The Crown Vic had the green.

_Oh Shit, they're going to make it through. Gotta move. _

The car raced across 4th towards them not slowing. Chuck attempted to scoop Sarah up but knew he didn't have the time. He was about to close his eyes and wait for the end when an enormous dark blur, roaring through the intersection, exploded into the side of the Crown Vic, creating a devastating crash and shriek of rending metal. The mass of twisted machines slid into the building only feet from them causing Chuck to throw himself over Sarah as a hail of tempered glass and broken masonry pelted his back.

More engines raced. Tires screeched. Small arms fire broke out and Chuck remained shielding Sarah from all of it. Gurgling cries and the screams of terrified onlookers told him of the casualties the gunfire was inflicting. Then the shooting stopped quickly, speaking to the discipline of the ones with the guns, and Chuck heard slow footsteps approach, ominous in his ears.

"I love you, Sarah. I'm sorry."

Chuck unsafetied the machine pistol, focusing on his rage at being denied a life with Sarah. He wondered how many he'd be able to take out before they ended him. He sprang off of Sarah, whipping around to face the source of the footsteps. Chuck barely heard Sarah's surprised croak speak the name that belonged to the face in front of him, a face he'd come to despise. His adrenaline had put him beyond reason and all he saw was an enemy. He raised his weapon, leveling it at the man's chest with only two words echoing in his mind.

_Die traitor. _

The dark, handsome frame of Daniel Shaw stood impassively, unaffected by the threat of the weapon trained on him. He then did a strange thing. He uttered three incongruous words in three different languages, each perfectly accented, in a voice that seemed to carry directly into Chuck's head.

"Phantom … douille … poltrona."

The last syllable released a storm from the language center in Chuck's brain, tearing through his cortex and overwhelming all other activity. His arms fell to his sides, not responding to his commands. Images began flashing through his mind faster than he could recognize them, becoming a fragmented noise. Just as it had at Gasworks, his sense of the world receded and then he was only aware of the swirling gale in his cranium. Sarah, Ellie, Morgan, even his own name were totally lost to the maelstrom. Finally, his mind couldn't take any more and his consciousness winked out into nothingness.


	12. Chapter 12

A couple of days later, a brain stem neuron, minding its daily chores, was slapped into alertness after receiving simultaneous chemical signals at several of its dendrites. The ion composition of its bustling interior was altered until, like rush hour on the subway, potassium, chloride, and sodium ions rushed to exchange places across the membrane at the base of its axon. The signal hopped its way towards the end of the narrow process in parallel with signals along hundreds of its neighbors, until it reached its terminus, releasing a flood of adrenaline across its synapse. A fountain of electrical activity was shooting up from the brain stem along the reticular activating system, spreading out on the cortex like a fire reaching the forest canopy. Respiration increased, awareness returned, and Sarah opened her eyes for the first time that day.

"Chuck? You're here."

He was hovering over her, having just stood up, his ridiculous bleached hair and bright smile setting her mind at ease even though she knew something big had happened.

"Where …"

"We're at Harborview Medical Center. You were shot and lost a lot of blood but they were able to stabilize you. They stopped the bleeding in your leg and repaired a few arteries so you get to keep it, thank god."

Sarah reflexively tried to move her leg but it was immobilized.

"No, don't try to move it. It's got some healing to do. By the way, I already thanked your surgeon, Dr. Leroy Pitts, but you might want to do the same if you see him. Your scar is going to be pretty small, considering, and, like I said, you still have two legs."

"Chuck … the Ring … and Daniel."

Chuck's smile darkened.

"Yes … Shaw. He saved us."

"So the whole operation wasn't compromised? What about Casey?"

"No, we were right; Casey was captured. Shaw couldn't do anything right away because he was pinned down in Castle. Before he locked everything down he got one alert off to Beckman, which it looks like this same cell tried to intercept. Apparently they'd been able to do it before but for some reason this time the attempt to intercept the signal failed and tripped some alarm. Not only did she end up getting the message but some of her tech guys discovered how the Ring was monitoring and censoring her communications. That's another story though. Anyway, she sent a team which took out the agents that had Shaw pinned down. They were also able to find Casey and bust him out of Ring custody … which is kind of a funny story, actually. Casey swallowed a radioactive tracer at the Buymore when he knew he was going to be taken. Shaw was able to track it because Casey's captors didn't give him a toilet in his cell. There was a drain in the cell that connected to the building's storm drain and Shaw was able to trace the plume of radioactivity …"

"Okay, I get the picture."

"Right, sorry. Anyway, Casey told Shaw about his contact, Blue, and that's how they found us. Now they're tracking the rest of the cell up here. Runkle's in custody and most of their ops teams have already been taken out. Raymond attempted to use a passport at the Canadian border that he didn't know had been flagged when he left the CIA. Kinda sloppy if you ask me. So, they have him in custody now and are trying to work out the last pieces of the cell before it goes underground."

"Who's Raymond?"

"Right, you never heard about that. Darnell Raymond. He's some kind of ranking operative in the cell we were after."

"Chuck. Are you okay? I saw you collapse. You were twitching."

Chuck's face froze, his eyes staring past Sarah.

"Yes … that. Apparently, a safety was added to the updated Intersect to allow it to be … disabled, which Shaw did. It's a verbal key that can send me into a seizure whenever it's spoken. Fortunately it has to be changed each time it's used but still, it's always nice to know you can be knocked over with a few words."

"Was it bad?"

"Sorta like being in a tornado and struck by lightning at the same time."

"I'm sorry, Chuck. So why did Shaw use it? Wait … were you trying to shoot him? I don't remember if that happened or if I dreamed it."

Chuck spoke the next words loud enough for his voice to carry.

"I was so amped up on adrenaline I didn't know who I was shooting at. I just thought he was another Ring agent."

Then Chuck bent over, putting his mouth next to Sarah's ear.

"Sarah, I learned something from that conversation at the park. Shaw's dirty. He's a traitor, just as bad as Fulcrum and the Ring. He has another operation we didn't know about and they're trying to …"

Chuck straightened quickly as he heard the curtain at the room's entrance moved aside. Sarah's eyes were wide, staring questioningly at Chuck. He nodded almost imperceptibly to confirm what he'd said. Daniel Shaw came up to the other side of the bed looking down at Sarah with a smile on his face.

"Hey there sweetie. You're awake finally. You weren't making too much sense yesterday with those meds after the surgery."

He leaned down and planted a kiss on Sarah's lips. Chuck stared in horror, his hands hardening into claws. Shaw straightened and looked back at Chuck, nodding towards the door.

_That fucking traitor bastard wants me to leave my own girlfriend! Oh you … mother … son of a … damn it! He can't know we're together yet. _

Chuck forced a smile and headed for the door. Just as he was about to leave he turned to see Sarah's eyes following him. It was only because he knew her as well as he did that he could see the pained look of distaste in her expression. He gave her a wink and a shake of his head which Shaw missed, having turned back to Sarah.

_I hope she doesn't hate me for not telling him yet. Maybe she'll understand the reason. _

Chuck waited outside the room, dark, ugly thoughts dripping from his mind, muddying the sunny feeling he'd gotten from seeing Sarah awake. As his emotions roiled, he thought about how Shaw always seemed to be coming between him and his friends or the people he loved. First separating he and Sarah, then trying to pry Casey away, and always scheduling missions which disrupted his plans with Morgan or Ellie.

_It's like he doesn't want me to have friends or ..._

Chuck felt the hair on his arms and the back of his neck raise up as his recall tripped over something Sarah had told him. It was a technique, used by intelligence agents and cults alike, to influence ... no ... to _change_ one's allegiances. It always started with isolation of the subject, psychologically or physically, from the people they trusted. When someone was in this vulnerable state, one could insinuate themselves as a new ally, friend, or authority figure.

_First there was the depression, using alcohol to fall asleep, then becoming detached and antisocial, and all of it … everything started after Shaw. I don't believe it. How did I not see it before? He's going to try to recruit me! That slimy bastard! He wants a little Intersect soldier for his very own. We'll see how well _that_ goes over you slick robot. _

Just as he had this last thought, Shaw exited Sarah's room. Chuck disguised the look of disgust on his face by faking a yawn and rubbing his eyes.

"You should get some sleep, Chuck. She's going to be fine. The nurses are taking care of her, and I can keep her company."

_Oh, can you, you son of a … _"Yeah, I suppose I should."

"Before you go …" Shaw took a step until he was within hugging distance and pitched his voice so only Chuck could hear. "We haven't been able to get much out of Raymond yet. He's had plenty of training to resist interrogation but we'll crack him eventually. It would be easier, though, if you could remember anything else about that meeting. Anything you can think of?"

Chuck closed his eyes in feigned concentration.

"Nope. Sorry. The only thing I saw them talking about was the cash pickup."

"Okay, no worries. If you think of anything though, let me know."

"Sure. Will do." _Worried, traitor? Raymond knows all about you and Casey's extracting all of it as we speak. Not that you'll ever find out. That weasel is earning himself a pass from the needle and protection from a Ring assassination because of you._

Shaw began to turn towards Sarah's room but stopped. "Oh, I can't believe I forgot to mention this before. While you were out, after … well … after you had the seizure, we implanted a tracking device under your skin. It's made of special composites so it doesn't show up on x-ray, and it's activated only after being pinged by a satellite. It's nearly impossible to detect."

"Where is it?"

"That's the beauty of it. If we don't tell you where it is, it can't be tortured out of you if you're ever abducted again. I just thought you'd be happy to know that we'll always be able to track you from now on."

"Oh, I'm delighted. Believe me ..." ... _you worthless rat fu ..._

"Well, go get some rest. I'll stay with Sarah. I think she could use the company. I'll see you back at The Castle."

A nurse watched the lanky bleached blonde man head for the elevator past the nurse's station with murder on his face. The nurse considered calling security on the guy but then thought better of it, content that at least he was leaving.

_Man … wonder who pissed in _his_ cornflakes? _

* * *

Sarah lay on her back in her own bed, reluctant to put her feet on the floor. This was a self-indulgence she held sacred and she wouldn't let discipline encroach on her little bubble of peace and quiet. Her schedule, normally chaotic due to the nature of being an operative, had recently become more akin to the wheel of fortune. Today it was hunting the Ring as usual, sitting in front of a computer doing research. The day before, on the other hand, she and Casey had broken into a bank vault downtown to retrieve a passel of documents and a flash drive containing information on Shaw's under the board financial transactions. The day before that, she and Chuck had nearly been discovered downloading files from an encrypted hard drive she'd lifted from a storage locker Shaw rented in Thousand Oaks.

They were looking for more evidence to bring to Beckman, as they'd discovered she was fortunately not part of Shaw's conspiracy. Darnell Raymond's accusation that Shaw was running an illegal operation had turned out to be true, and his information had been helpful, if incomplete. The problem was that they needed to uncover Shaw's network and find evidence of his political and economic objectives to bring to Beckman, a task that was turning out to be as difficult as hunting the Ring.

Then there was she and Chuck's other mission. The secret one. When Chuck had finally been able to tell her all of what he'd learned at the park they'd spent several intense hours considering the implications. It seemed to both of them that the shadow governments, conspiracies, and rogue operations would continue as long as the gold ring of the imprinting technology existed. One solution, then, was the complete destruction of the technology and all knowledge of it. Of course the inherent difficulty with technology in the modern age was that, once it was developed it was nearly impossible to make it disappear. Even if it did, there was always the possibility that it would pop up again later. Instead of eradication, Chuck had suggested another option, that they find a way to inoculate the public against the imprinting. A project of this sort was way beyond either of their abilities so they decided to look for help. Thus began the second great search for the whereabouts of Stephen J. Bartowski.

Sarah stretched decadently, enjoying the silky flow of her bamboo sheets over her skin, attempting to ignore the now familiar ache in her left thigh. This week the pain had been better than the previous one, her rehabilitation looking to be on a faster schedule than the one the physical therapist had suggested. This surprised no one, as Sarah wasn't one to accept imposed limitations when it came to her own body.

It was more than determination that had led to her faster than expected recovery, though. She and Chuck had been looking for ways to be together and rehab provided a perfect opportunity. Of course Shaw had insisted on helping at first but Sarah had no intention of letting him get between her and her man. Going off the pain meds to clear her head gave her the excuse she needed and she became a complete bitch as he tried to run her through the exercises. She was proud of herself that the normally unflappable agent hadn't lasted more than two sessions.

He'd attempted feigning jealousy when she suggested Chuck take over rehab duties, still trying to keep the wedge between the two, but this had backfired as well since it gave Sarah the excuse she needed to break up with him. She told him she did not find jealousy attractive.

When Chuck took over as her coach, the reversal from their usual roles had been somewhat awkward. Sarah restored the balance, however, when she suggested in exchange she coach him through conditioning training to relieve him of the muscle strains and cramps that the Intersect sometimes inflicted on him. Now, several times a week they met on the practice floor, bodies together, bending and stretching, sweating from the exertion. The sexual tension was maddening but delicious. She looked forward to each session, despite the pain, as any time with him was more precious than gold.

The green digital numbers across the room said 6:30 and the rumble in her stomach told her a foray for dinner was pending. Time to leave the bubble of no-work ... and no bugs. She brought the palm of her hand down on the naked bottom next to her, the satisfying smack bringing a wicked smile to her face.

"Hey, I was having a good dream."

"Mmmmm. Was I involved?"

"Maybe. Why don't you come sit on my lap, and I'll tell you all about it."

Chuck's infectious smile and casually sprawled nudity were too much to resist. She let herself be pulled down for a long leisurely kiss but as his hands began to roam she knew she'd soon be lost. With a catlike motion she slipped out of his arms and rolled off the bed, still feeling the path his fingers had traced on her skin. As usual, they didn't have time for another round but she enjoyed watching the way his eyes appraised her nakedness.

"I wish we could go again, babe, but there's only 45 minutes until the software for tracking your bug resets its encryption password. That's just about long enough for us to get dinner and make it back to the 'stakeout' we're supposed to be at."

"Fucking Shaw and his damn bug. I can't wait 'til you and I can be 'out' about us. I envision an entire day off with nothing to do but really naked, really fun things in bed." She saw it coming from a mile away as he lunged for her, and she easily slipped out of his reach.

"An entire day, huh? You sure you could handle it big guy?"

"I think you'd be the one handling it, Sarah."

She rolled her eyes. "You're such a dork."

"Nerd, remember, not dork. And anyways, that's why you love me."

"Yes, among other things."

"Ooo, like what?"

"Like how you're going to go get crab Rangoon, tofu pad see ew, and chicken pad prik king from Tam's while I take a shower."

"Oh I am, am I?"

"Yep. Then maybe later we can test how my flexibility is coming along in the backseat of the stakeout rental. It's a tight fit but we could manage, don't you think?"

"Mmmm. I'd call you a tease but you have a really fantastic way of following through. Have I told you that I love you lately?"

"It never hurts to hear it again."

"I love you, Sarah."

"I love you too, Chuck."

"You know we're going about this all backwards, saying I love you and having fan-frikin-tastic sex before we've been on more than two half-dates. And those both ended with vehicular violence of some sort."

Sarah held his face between her hands, wrapping a curl of his hair around her index finger

"Chuck, going on dates before sex and love is what normal people do. We don't do normal. That's just not … us."

"Nope, you're right. And now that I'm with you I can say with certainty, I hope it never is."

* * *

A/N: Well, I hope I didn't Scooby Doo that ending too badly. In any case, there's plenty of fodder for the sequel. Shaw's still on the loose and Chuck and Sarah are left having an illicit affair (at least as far as Shaw, Casey, and Beckman are concerned). Will Chuck and Sarah take Shaw down, will they get their chance to go on another real date, did the crab Rangoon turn out crispy or sodden ... find out in the sequel: The Revenge of the Bartowski.


End file.
